'^^^\W'^^ 











Book 



^' G 



- j> 



Gopiglitl^^. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




(0at:Den jEojsaicjS 




The Old House and Garden. 




^ (B^x^itn ^osatts ^ 



^j)ilo^opj)ical, amoral, and 
i^orticultural 



' Ye bright mosaics that with storied beauty 
The floors of Nature's temple tessellate. "... 
Horace Smith. 




THt LIERAKY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two CopiBS Rec«ive<) 

OCT 8 1903 

Copyright bntty 

Class * XXc. No 
COPY B/ 






Copyright, 1903, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



PnUishfd Qctober,^ J90S 



PREFACE 




S I have no literary ability or prac- 
tise, and know very little about 
gardening, I suppose I ought to 
apologize for presenting this crude 
production to an intelligent public. At all events, 
I should like to put forth my thoughts and 
reflections with a demeanor of becoming mod- 
esty. 

I have never been in the habit of expressing 
my intimate thoughts and feelings, or of laying 
bare my soul, and if I did, it would not be fit for 
the public to gaze upon. But occasionally, like 
others, I express certain desultory opinions. I 
am sometimes honest and more often try to be, 
as far as the exigencies of circumstances allow. 
On this occasion, at any rate, I have no interest 
or wish to sail under false colors, and were I to 
do so some of my readers would be sure to find 
me out. 

I have no confidant but " Nature, the deep- 

V 



(0artien pio^aic^ 



bosomed," and none but she, therefore, will be 
able to discern in what I say more than the one 
or two slight phases of my character which are 
exhibited. But there are many others, mostly 
worse. 

This little book is not a spontaneous produc- 
tion, but is the result of labor and tribulation, 
both physical and mental. Some of the views 
I have expressed are unorthodox, and I am also 
aware of the fact that they are not original, but 
are mostly borrowed from or suggested by the 
thoughts of others. 

Having thus introduced the author, I must say 
a word about the garden. By most competent 
judges it would be pronounced a very ordinary, 
little, somewhat ill-kept garden. It has the ad- 
vantage, however, of being old and of contain- 
ing a few nice old trees and shrubs, while in form 
and subdivision it is pleasantly irregular. If I 
have created the impression that it is a greater 
and grander domain than it really is, I merely 
wish to state that such has not been my in- 
tention. 

December, igo2. 

v£ 



CONTENTS 



Chapter Page 

I. Beauties of My Garden 3 

II. Thoughts That Come 13 

III. Women and Gardens 23 

IV. Religion 33 

V. Garden Temptations 45 

VI. Garden Pets, and Others . . . .55 

VII. Tropical Trees 67 

VIII. The Child and the Garden .... 77 

IX. Training the Garden 89 

X. The Coming of Spring loi 

XI. Blossoms Ill 

XII. Suggestions Z23 

XIII. Birds and Philosophy 135 

XIV. Roses and Philology 147 

XV. Midsummer Roses 157 

XVI. Gardens and Life 167 

XVII. Some Old-time Favorites . . . .177 

XVIII. Autumnal Forecast 189 

XIX. Falling Leaves 199 

XX. The Garden in Winter 209 



Vil 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Facing 
page 

The Old House and Garden . . . Frontispiece ^ 

Under One of these Trees Sat the Buddha . . iS 

This Porch was of Great Beauty . . . .56 

The Most Beautiful Tree I Have Ever Seen . .70 

Her Beloved White Pigeons Settled About Her . 81 / 

It Served as a Cradle for so many Attractive 
Objects 161 



IX 



Day stars ! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle 

From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation 

And dewdrops on her lonely altars sprinkle as a libation. 



CHAPTER I 
BEAUTIES OF MY GARDEN 



SSflg^^ HE stars were still shining when I 
mr%t^2n went out of the door, as they gen- 
^K^^Kr^ erally are when I emerge from the 
house into the garden on clear 
mornings in winter. 

All was still in the fresh, crisp air, but the 
sparrows seemed to resent the intrusion of an 
early riser and fluttered noisily out of the ivy 
and yews as I passed close to their roosting 
place. 

The ivy on the back of the house, like all else 
about that edifice, had such a hirsute and ragged 
appearance that it had to be cut to the bone a 
year ago, and it has not yet recovered from its 
close shearing and from a subsequent interfer- 
ence of bricklayers and repairers. The sparrows 
found their cover so attenuated that they took 
to the yews for a time; but with the gradual 

3 



dBiarDen jHojsaios 



recovery of growth in the ivy, they are begin- 
ning to return to their old home. 

I love and encourage all birds except sparrows, 
who have to be suppressed so that they may 
not establish the monopoly they hold in so many 
places where they settle, to the exclusion of more 
attractive species. The garden abounds with 
thrushes, blackbirds, starlings, robins, linnets, 
chaffinches, bullfinches, tits, and wrens, and in 
the proper season the air is vibrant with the 
song of nightingales and the soft amorous coo- 
ing of doves. In winter the blackbirds and 
thrushes are the most sociable, and the blue tits 
revel in a beech close to the southeast corner 
of the house, its branches being hung like a 
Christmas-tree with tallow candles and half 
coconuts * for their special delectation. The 
robins, of course, become very tame and friendly 
from the interested motives which, alas! only 
too often lie at the root of friendly advances. I 
do not, like some, however, apostrophize these 
dainty little feathered friends as " sneaks " be- 



* I spell this word without an " a " as it has nothing to do \vith 
Theobroma cacao." 



'Beauticjs of 0iv (0artjcn 

cause they approach me more frequently and 
nearer when they are hungry and want food. It 
is human nature, and evidently bird nature too. 

What a lot of human nature there is in man! 
By which I mean man in his generic symboliza- 
tion, " embracing woman," and how often is the 
fact ignored. It (human nature) explains and ac- 
counts for much that is misunderstood, and legis- 
lators, political, social, and domestic, should al- 
ways keep it uppermost in their minds, as they 
themselves also do not fail to demonstrate its in- 
fluence. Man is human, and above all a human 
animal, not rational, as we like to describe him, 
but " rationis capax " ; that is to say, capable of 
acting on reason in favorable circumstances. His 
sentiment is at best but partially controlled and 
modified by reason, and where sentiment is 
strong, reason is swept away and the faculty of its 
exercise temporarily ceases to exist. 

The robins, moreover, in spite of this inter- 
polation on man, gave substantial evidence of 
disinterested sociability by building their nests 
in summer, when they asked and expected noth- 
ing, close to the house where I almost brushed 

5 



dDfarDen i^ojsaic^ 



against them many times a day. One little nest 
was so low in the short brushwood on the stem 
of an old yew that even Timmy, the rough-haired 
terrier, sometimes peeped in to see if the baby 
robins were agreeing in their little nest. For 
birds in their little nests do not always agree 
— proverbs notwithstanding. 

No one can be really said to love his gar- 
den who does not love it in winter. A fine- 
weather love is like a fine-weather friend, the 
prostitution of a sacred name: the friend is no 
friend and the love is no love at all. 

Winter in a garden is the season of promise, 
of hope, and of anxious expectation, and who 
can say that the objects of our hopes and anxi- 
eties are not as interesting and engaging to our 
faculties as their fulfilment; that is to say, when 
they cease any longer to be hopes and anxieties. 
Realization of hopes may give, and sometimes 
does give, serener pleasure, but it seldom pre- 
occupies the intellect so completely or so long 
as the hopes themselves. And then there are 
the failures, or realizations of the anxieties, to 
take into the account. 

6 



'Beautiejs of piV cI3arDen 

It is a long time to wait through all the win- 
ter months to realize the hopes and anxieties 
which have been planted in the soil in the au- 
tumn. If one's solicitude is equal in volume upon 
each separate object within its purview, as I 
suppose it must more or less be, to what dimen- 
sions must not the aggregate attain when the 
units are impartially dealt out in thousands? 

In the beds under the windows on the south 
and west of the house hundreds of tulips and 
hyacinths have been inserted. The tulips are 
all mixed, as they look much brighter and gayer 
than when sorted in colors. In the herbaceous 
borders, most of them backed or centered by 
shrubs, chiefly evergreen, are irises, Spanish, 
German, English, Japanese, and reticulata, anem- 
ones of various descriptions, daffodils, narcissi, 
ixias, foxgloves, lilies, campanulas, montbretias, 
ranunculi, delphiniums, and many other plants 
and bulbs. The borders round the lawns are 
all lined with mixed crocuses, and quantities of 
these, with snowflakes, daffodils, snowdrops, and 
scillas, have been put in the grass wherever 
there are untrodden corners, and around trees. 

7 



dD^arDen piomic^ 



In the paddock I have planted quantities of the 
same bulbs in the grass together with grape hya- 
cinths, fritillarias, chionodoxas, dog's-tooth vio- 
lets, and other things, all pell-mell; and under 
a long line of hedge, anemones have been in- 
serted between the stems of the hawthorn. An- 
other and very ragged hedge on one side of the 
paddock has been " mended " vdth sweetbriers, 
crimson ramblers, and honeysuckle. Some cop- 
per beech, crab-apple, mountain ash, double pink 
cherry, with rhododendrons and other shrubs, 
have been filled into gaps in the shrubberies. 
The garden is an old one, and has been much 
neglected for years past. 

I have also planted out a lot of roses, and am 
determined to make Marechal Niel flourish in 
the open. I am the more emboldened to this 
as when I took possession of the house, the pre- 
vious tenant, who had allowed a beautiful old 
garden to run to seed and weed in every part 
of it, had planted a rose of this variety in mis- 
erable soil against the wall of a coach-house in 
the back-yard, facing another building, where 
it got next to no sun and was exposed to the 

8 



idtantit^ of 01^ c^arDcn 

coldest north winds of winter, funneled through 
the space it occupied. It had been there for 
some years and — lived! 

I have planted one by a small porch on the 
south side of the house, where it should do well, 
and another in an exposed position on a higher 
elevation. I have sought to temper the winter 
wind by means of a piece of matting. 

The " gentle reader " may thus gather that 
the aggregate of my hopes and anxieties is prob- 
ably greater and will be of longer duration than 
the pleasure of realization of the former — minus 
the failures. 

It occurs to me that this chapter had " Day- 
Stars " for its text, and I have said nothing about 
them beyond a cursory allusion to the stars of 
the firmament in the early morning in winter. 
The most beautiful day-stars in the shape of 
flowers I have ever seen may be found in Ipomoea 
ruhro-caerulea, but it can only be seen in its glory 
in the tropics. In one of the tropical gardens 
I have had there was a trellis, some 120 to 150 
feet long and 8 feet high, which for nearly two 
months on end each year used to be covered in 

9 



(0arDen jHojjatcjs 



a dense mass with these magnificent and heav- 
enly flowers. No leaves were visible, and every 
morning a fresh relay of flowers opened to the 
dawn, those of the previous day hiding behind 
them and falling off with the reddish tint which 
I suppose gave rise to the compound Latin name 
of the species. 

This is a true day-star, only the coloring is 
exactly reversed from that of the night stars. 
The golden light of day robbed from the latter 
brings forth on the ipomosa countless constella- 
tions of the purest, densest heavenly blue, the 
exquisite beauty of which in a large mass must 
be imagined, for at all events I have not words 
wherewith to paint its glories. I can only say 
it compelled the admiration of all who have ever 
seen it, be their soul never so dead or dull to the 
beauties of nature. 



lO 



Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam 
Im Norden anf kahler Hoh'. 
Ihn schlafert ; mit weisser Decke 
Umhullen ihn Eis und Schnee. 

Er traumt von einer Palme, 
Die fern im Morgenland 
Eisam und schweigend trauert 
Anf brennender Felsenwand. 

Heine. 

A fir-tree stands there lonely 
■Where northern blizzards blow. 

He slumbers: a silver mantle 
Enshrouds him in ice and snow. 

His dreams are of a palm-tree 

Who far in torrid zone 
In silence droops and sorrows 

On sweltering crag alone. 



II 




CHAPTER II 

THOUGHTS THAT COME 

OMETIMES I think the garden is 
even more beautiful in its winter 
garb than in its gala dress of sum- 
mer. I know I have thought so 
more than once when every leaf and branch was 
clothed with a pure garment of snow, so light as 
not to hide the grace of form. But nothing, it 
seems to me, could ever transcend the exquisite 
beauty of the vegetation when on one occasion a 
sharp frost followed a very wet fog. The mist 
driven by the wind had imparted a coating of 
fresh moisture, evenly distributed, over and under 
every leaf and twig inside the trees and shrubs 
as well as outside. The light coating then froze 
and left every innermost twig resplendent with 
delicate white crystals. It was quite different 
from an ordinary frost or a fall of snow, beau- 
tiful as are frequently the effects of these. But 
13 



(IB»at:Den pioMt^ 



the glory of the scene reached its climax when 
the sun came out and the thicket scintillated 
from the center as well as from its external sur- 
face. 

Its dazzling splendor, however, could not last, 
and the glistening and enchanted spectacle grad- 
ually melted away before the greater and more 
glorious life-giving presence of " God's lidless 
Eye." This gorgeous scene, however, has always 
dwelt in my memory, and figures as the most 
glowing aspect a garden can assume at any sea- 
son of the year. 

But, even without such adventitious aids as 
snow or frost, the garden is engaging in its 
winter attire. Beauty unadorned is adorned the 
most ; but then it must be beauty. I do not wish 
to go to extremes and worship the bare straight 
wands of a scraggy unclothed bush whose naked- 
ness is only tolerable because of the alluring 
toilettes it dons at other seasons. What, how- 
ever, can be more fascinating than many a nude 
tree, the sturdy strength of the anatomy of the 
oak and the lithe grace of the beech and the 
birch? I have in my mind's eye two other splen- 

14 




frt*" 



Under One of these Trees Sat the Buddha. 



Ci^ougi^tjJ Ci^at Come 



did examples, and there are many more. One is 
a magnificent elm in the corner of the lawn, 
whose symmetry and grace of structure I never 
cease to admire when it is leafless, with the 
massive strength of its stem and primary 
branches and the delicate and feathery tracery 
in the arrangement of its countless little twigs 
spread out against the sky. Another beautiful 
leafless tree in its vast expansion toward the 
light is the peepul-tree of India, the Ficus rcligi- 
osa. I am fortunately able to reproduce a photo- 
graph of one of these beautiful trees taken some 
years ago by a friend, whose enlargement of it 
made a most attractive picture. It was under 
one of these trees that nearly 2,500 years ago is 
said to have sat, wrestling with the demons of 
temptation, Gautama, the Buddha, the man whose 
teaching and beneficent influence has swayed a 
larger number of the human race than any one 
either before or after him. Even to this day his 
followers probably represent a greater propor- 
tion of the population of the earth than any other 
religion, and, including the followers of Brahman- 
ism, whose religion owes some of its best phases 

15 



CDiarDen jttojsaicjej 



to the same source, the influence of his example 
and discipline may be said to sway more than 
half the entire population of the globe. 

It always seems to me that the only reason 
why the wisdom of Gautama has not been ac- 
cepted and practised more widely and more 
strictly is simply that his philosophy is too high 
for poor weak human nature, I will not say to 
grasp, but to hold permanently. We can all 
grasp the truth that desire can not be controlled 
and quenched by its satisfaction, but only by its 
limitation; but who can hold to this truth and 
go on practising fresh limitations continually till 
the Nirvana of perfect peace, the cessation of 
desire, is attained? 

Great trees which rise and spread their shape- 
ly arms toward the sky, whether in leaf and 
blossom or unclothed, always recall to my mem- 
ory the beautiful poem of Oliver Wendell 
Holmes, Under the Violets : 

At last the little rootlets of the trees 
Shall find the prison where she lies, 

And bear the buried dust they seize 
In leaves and blossoms to the skies. 
So may the soul that warmed it rise! 

i6 



Cl^ougl^tjs Cl^at Come 



How much better to have one's body clasped 
by the tender little rootlets and one's soul raised 
aloft, its essence fragrantly diffused toward 
heaven, than to be put into a cold vault in a 
leaden box, or cremated! 

Then, think in winter of all the bulbs and roots 
sleeping in their wholesome and fresh earthen 
bed. One sees how comfortable they are when 
one happens, as occurs now and then inadvert- 
ently, to disturb them in their slumber. How 
cozy and healthy the little bulbs look with their 
fresh pale green shoots emerging from their shell 
ready to break through the soil toward the 
light, to expand their treasured beauties in the 
open air when the cold of winter has passed 
away. 

We are in the middle of December, and as the 
weather is cold the roses have had their winter 
capes thrown over their shoulders. I have plant- 
ed a number of new ones, and these, like many 
others which are in positions exposed to the 
northeast wind, will no doubt be more comforta- 
ble and respond to the care that is taken of them 
better if the cold blast is partially warded from 
2 17 



dDiarDen jEojsaios 



them. The cape consists of a flat bunch of yew 
tied over the neck of the plant. 

The sweet peas, too, which were sown in Oc- 
tober and are shooting above ground, have now 
also been protected. Last year the October sow- 
ing answered very well with the result that my 
first crop of these fragrant and beautiful flowers 
came very early. 

How many things have failed, though? It is 
true we learn through our mistakes; but how 
tediously and how slowly! It usually takes us 
a lifetime to know that we have sipped but a 
teaspoonful from the inexhaustible ocean of 
knowledge and that we have not even digested 
that small dose properly. 

To give a homely personal instance, my head, 
like that, I am given to understand, of most 
married men, is of an irregular configuration, and 
hats shaped for it invariably relapse, a short time 
after their purchase, into the usual oval (by 
which I mean egg-shaped) ellipse and compress 
my more highly developed bumps, which I must 
assume a phrenological investigation would show 
to be good ones. It took me over thirty years 
i8 



Cl^ougl^t^ Ci^at Come 



to hit upon the plan of having a wooden form 
constructed to match the plane of the orbit of 
that portion of my skull which is designed by 
nature, besides growing hair, for carrying a hat 
rim. Both these objects it had previously not 
fulfilled to my satisfaction. Now I transfer the 
pressure, discomfort, and headaches to the block 
of wood, and when this has extracted them com- 
pletely from the hat, I wear it. 

Could anything be more simple, and why 
should I have taken thirty years to find it 
out. 

My cranial protuberances of benevolence, sen- 
sibility, amiability, etc., as I presume them to 
be in the absence of expert phrenological opinion 
to the contrary, are thus no longer constricted 
as they were before, and can expand more 
freely. 

I never knew the cause of some of my phys- 
ical discomforts and moral deficiencies till I made 
this discovery, which must be sound and not 
mere theory, as it is evidenced by the practical 
proof that I feel less evilly disposed toward 
my neighbor when I have a comfortable hat on 

19 



(BarDen j^oisJatc^ 



than with one which does not allow my bumps 
full play. 

I offer my readers this recipe gratis for their 
boots where it may be of similar soothing 
service. 



20 



Steht ein Baum im schonen Garten 
Und ein Apfel hangt daran 
Und es ringelt sich am Aste 
Eine Schlange, und ich kann 
Von den siissen Schlangenaugen 
Nimmer wenden meinen Blick, 
Und Das zischelt so verheissend, 
Und Das lockt wie holdes Gliick ! 

Heine. 

A tree stands in a beauteous garden 

And an apple hangs thereon, 
And there resting in the branches 

Twines a serpent, and upon 
Those sweet magic serpent glances 

Must I rivet fast my gaze : 
Something whispers so entrancing, 

Lures me in a blissful haze. 



21 




CHAPTER III 

WOMEN AND GARDENS 

HARLES DUDLEY WARNER, in 

his charming little book, My Sum- 
mer in a Garden, which I always, 
rightly or wrongly, look upon as the 
pioneer among the more recent light garden lit- 
erature, perhaps because it was the first book of 
its kind I read, now a good many years ago, says : 
" Woman always made a muss in a garden." It 
is quite clear he can not have read Elizabeth, 
Miss Jekyll, or Mrs. Earle, or he could never 
have made such a statement without naming his 
exceptions. I am sure no one can say those 
ladies made a " muss," whatever that may be, 
in a garden. 

I suppose Mr. Warner refers to our mother 

Eve, who undoubtedly flirted with the serpent, 

while he was probably handsome and walking 

erect before his curse; but after all. Eve's con- 

23 



(0at:Den pio^aic^ 



duct seems to me quite natural, as the serpent 
was the first who spoke to her, and possibly even 
whispered in her ear! He seems to have ap- 
peared on the scene before Ithuriel and Zephon, 
who might otherwise have been preferred with 
vastly different consequences to the human race. 
Eve's curiosity, a quality which woman was 
formerly supposed to possess in a strong de- 
gree, was no doubt aroused, and she wanted to 
know what a chat with an erect serpent would 
be like. He proved, it seems clear, an adept, 
since he opened the conversation, not like the 
clever Scotchman with a repartee, but on the 
subject of the forbidden. This is always a dan- 
gerous subject, and for that reason an attractive 
one. Eve fell into temptation, and for my own 
part I have not yet been able to discern what 
temptation was made for unless it was to be 
fallen into. I am aware the view exists that 
it is placed in our way in order to test and 
strengthen our character. As a test of character, 
however, it seems to me to fail. To avoid temp- 
tation and give it the go-by is pure evidence of 
weakness and nothing else, and the practise of 
24 



Womm anD d^arDen^ 



ineptitude can not possibly be fortifying. Our 
mental and physical faculties were made for use, 
and, the great scheme of evolution shows us, for 
development also — not for abuse, though, be it 
clearly understood. But to discuss in this chap- 
ter the immense advantage to be gained by the 
exercise of moderation would lead me too far 
away. I may come back to it later on if some- 
thing else in the course of these scattered 
thoughts suggests the subject to me again. 

What I have never understood is why we are 
always taught that Adam and Eve were turned 
out of the Garden of Eden because they ate of 
the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and 
evil, and were thus guilty of disobedience. I 
find every one I have questioned has been so 
taught, and that there has been nothing unusual 
in my instruction; but in vain have I sought 
a satisfactory reply to my demand for authority. 
The ground was cursed, and our disobedient 
first parents were cursed for having eaten of the 
fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil; 
but that was not the direct ground of their ban- 
ishment from the garden, the reason very clearly 
25 



mthm piomit^ 



and explicitly stated in the third chapter of 
Genesis being quite a different one. 

The society Eve of the present day, I take it, 
does not make a "muss" in the garden, what- 
ever she may do elsewhere. But I wish I knew 
what a " muss " is, so that I might find out where 
she does make it and ascertain what it is like. 
Perhaps, after all, it is a good thing to do, and 
is virtuous and commendable, and for aught I 
know, Mr. Warner may have been paying wom- 
anhood a compliment in saying they " made a 
muss." When he observed that " nature was 
awful smart," he said he meant to be compli- 
mentary; so, perhaps, his intentions were similar 
in this case. But, however that may be, I think 
it will be safer for me at once to repudiate all 
responsibility for possibly misinterpreting a word 
I do not understand or know the meaning of. 

All the same, I have arrived at the conclusion 
that the woman who does not " make a muss in 
a garden " is a product of quite recent times. 

One Society Eve I know looks upon the devel- 
opment for the table of two fat mushrooms under 
an ash-tree as of much more absorbing interest 
26 



Womm anti (BJartienjs 



than the blooming of Senateur Vaisse, L'Ideal 
or Marie van Houtte ; and another, when once on 
an occasion I pointed out admiringly some pans 
tessellated with a gorgeous variety of gay portu- 
lacas, told me she considered them " footly little 
things," an adjective I must presume to be com- 
mendatory, as I have not succeeded in discover- 
ing in the authorities any contreiry signification 
to it. 

Among the various Clematis I have planted is 
one called the " Duchess of Albany." It is one of 
the hybrids of Coccinea, the wild Mexican species. 
Its growth on the west side of the house has been 
all that could be desired, for in half the time it has 
entirely outstripped a vigorous plant of Jackmanni 
which climbs alongside it. It flowered fairly pro- 
fusely and continued in blossom till well on in the 
autumn, but its blooms took more after its parent 
Coccinea than Jackmanni, being an erect half-closed 
bell, something in the shape of a campanula, of a 
striated, rather insipid, pink color. I was look- 
ing forward with the most pleasurable anticipa- 
tion and excitement to the efflorescence of my 
pink Clematis; but now I wonder when I think 
27 



cID!arDen jmo^aicjs 



of it as compared with the beautiful large Jack- 
mamii varieties, rich in color, and bold in design, 
whether I should be sufficiently complimentary 
if I apostrophized it " a footly little thing." 

In this chapter I seem to have been talking 
almost more about woman than about the gar- 
den ; but after all woman is indissolubly mixed up 
with the garden, which she usually directs as she 
does most other things, and in the end we must 
acknowledge that she is either the rose or the vio- 
let of society if not of the garden. A great and 
clever man once summed up to me in two words 
the culmination of his experience as to the treat- 
ment of woman : " Thwart her," he said. The 
prescription may or may not be a good and cha- 
stening one. It would in any case have to be 
administered with great tact and much gilding. 
I do not, however, wish to discuss it, as it is not 
in my line, though I must plead guilty to think- 
ing sometimes with another great man that 
" woman is an unreasoning being who pokes the 
fire from the top." 

Metaphorically this is quite true, for the simple 
reason that woman is swayed much more by senti- 
28 



I^omen anD d^attien^ 



ment than man is. Her sympathies preclude her 
from a due sense of justice ; but she is not alone 
in the common human weakness of sympathy 
for the criminal, if he is only bad enough, instead 
of for the victims he has wronged. 

Let us, however, be thankful that she is as she 
is, and try to make the best of ourselves and our 
gardens. 

It is foolish of me to have allowed myself to 
make any remarks about so complicated a subject 
as woman ; but what is said is said and I propose 
in this chronicle to record whatever comes into 
my head, as I write, on any subject. 



29 



The truth.seeker is the only God-seeker. 

"S." 
Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, 
Or any searcher know by mortal mind, 
Veil after veil will lift — but there must be 
Veil upon veil behind. 

Edwin Arnold. 



31 




CHAPTER IV 
RELIGION 

LTHOUGH I love my garden in win- 
ter as well as in summer, from the 
fact that there is so much less day- 
light at this season, I am, of course, 
able to spend less time in it. The longer even- 
ings indoors give more opportunity for reading 
than does the summer, when one begrudges 
every moment spent in the house. A short while 
ago I found time to read The Soul of a People, 
by Fielding, and I have now read his sequel to it, 
entitled The Hearts of Men. 

These two books are the most interesting ones 
I have read for many a long day and I commend 
their perusal to reflective persons; but I must 
make some remarks on them. The latter book 
opens with a number of definitions of religion 
by different writers and toward the end the au- 
thor gives three definitions of his own. Of the 
others only one seems to me at all satisfactory. 
3 33 



c^arDen jHo^atos 



It is by Max Miiller, who says : " Religion is the 
perception of the infinite," which is no doubt cor- 
rect as far as it goes, only — does it go far enough, 
and is it complete enough for a full definition? 
The subject is of such momentous importance 
and of such intense interest to the entire human 
race that I am sure a more or less comprehensive 
definition is needed. I am not a voracious reader 
of theology and may thus not be aware of many 
excellent definitions which have been propound- 
ed. What I say, therefore, is set down in all 
deference. 

Fielding's first definition is : " Religion is the 
recognition and cultivation of our highest emo- 
tions, of our more beautiful instincts, of all that 
we know is best in us." Now this seems to me 
quite wrong. Religion may involve all these 
things ; but it can not be said that it is itself the 
recognition and cultivation of what is best in us, 
and what is best must always be to some extent 
a matter of opinion and convention. Even the 
first of my propositions can only apply to some 
of us and to some religions. Our author express- 
ly states that he deals with religion generally, 

34 



Eeltgion 

true or false, and seeks a common ground for all, 
a condition surely not met by his definition. It 
would not be difficult, but perhaps is unnecessary 
here, to quote examples or cases to prove this. 

His second definition is : " Religion is the sat- 
isfaction of some of the wants of the souls of 
men." This is childish. You might as well de- 
fine the practise of any virtue, art, any intellectual 
enjoyment, the love of gain, or even food or drink, 
in the same words. An effect is again mistaken 
for a state of being, and a causa causans is classed 
as its consequence. 

The third definition runs : " Religion is the 
music of the infinite echoed in the hearts of men." 
This, of course, is metaphorical, and poetical if 
you like. It is no doubt a good " imaginative 
idealization," but not a clear definition which can 
enable us better to understand with our reason- 
ing faculties what religion really is. It is, how- 
ever, the only one of the three definitions, albeit 
vague and parabolical, which comes near the 
truth. It would have been still nearer, it appears 
to me, had it been expressed as : " The pulsations 
of the human heart vibrating into infinity." 

35 



dDJarDen jHo^aic^ 



The Hearts of Men opens with the follow- 
ing quotation from Anon : " The difficulty of 
framing a correct definition of religion is very 
great. Such a definition should apply to nothing 
but religion, and should differentiate religion 
from anything else — as, for example, from imagi- 
native idealization, art, morality, philosophy. It 
should apply to everything which is naturally 
and commonly called religion; to religion as a 
subjective spiritual state, and to all religions, high 
or low, true or false, which have obtained ob- 
jective historical realization." 

Do Fielding's definitions comply with these re- 
quirements, the soundness of which can not be 
questioned? I think not. His best definition, and 
that of Max Miiller also, must, I fear, be classed 
as " imaginative idealizations." 

Before going further I wish to postulate two 
things : First, the imperfection of our senses, and, 
secondly, that all religions, so-called true or false, 
whether based on pure ascetic philosophy or on 
the crudest superstition and ignorance, are vir- 
tually an attempt to solve the connection of hu- 
manity with the hereafter and the unknown. The 

36 



unknowable future, after life is extinct, I think 
it will be acknowledged is the essence of religion. 

As regards our senses, which we must analyze 
in order that we may see clearly what our means 
of understanding a difficult problem are, we must 
remember that they consist really of only one 
sense, and that a very material one. It is the 
sense of touch or contact, in progressive degrees 
of refinement. 

First— Touch. 

Second — Taste, or the appreciation and distinc- 
tion of finer particles. 

Third — Smell, or the appreciation of still finer 
particles. 

Fourth — Hearing, or the appreciation of the 
impact of sound-waves. 

Fifth — Sight, or the appreciation of the impact 
of the much finer vibrations of light. 

We have no other means or apparatus for re- 
ceiving or collecting impressions, and this ap- 
paratus consists of a series of instruments, name- 
ly, " feelers," of a very imperfect nature, however 
marvelous we may consider them to be. They 
are connected with and constitute the scouts and 

37 



(BarDen j^ioieJatcjs 



sentinels of another wonderful instrument, the 
brain, where every impression they convey is 
stored for conscious or unconscious use. The 
assimilation of all these impressions of material 
facts results in the exercise of what we call the 
reasoning faculty. This faculty may elaborate and 
build up theories and abstract ideas ; but these all 
emanate originally from the same source, material 
contact of the sense of touch with material ob- 
jects. In these circumstances can we wonder if 
we fail to grasp such a subject as infinity, which 
does not manifest itself either as matter or force 
and which it is quite beyond the power of our 
instruments to gage. Until our powers are 
further developed and refined we must regard 
such things as " behind the veil," and wait in 
patience for further light and more extended 
means of understanding. In the meantime, hu- 
manity, whose first instinct is self-preservation, 
fears extinction in a vague, untutored way. 
There is, however, as far as we know, no reason 
to apprehend extinction either of matter or force ; 
but with regard to the individuality of living or- 
ganisms, simple or complex, the case is different. 

38 



Eeligion 

There is no evidence to give us any ground to suppose 
that complex individuality is anything but an epheme- 
ral condition. Throughout the great scheme of 
evolution we see of what small importance is the 
individual. He is nothing, and may be, and is, 
continually sacrificed in the interest of the prog- 
ress of the community. Individual to race, race 
to species, species to genus, genus perhaps to 
families and orders and so on. 

This being the case, what justification have we 
for exaggerating the importance of human indi- 
viduality and arrogating to it a position so much 
higher than the evidence appreciable to our 
senses warrants ? For my own part I am content 
to accept a much humbler position in the vast 
design of the universe and to submissively ac- 
knowledge that if the whole of the human race 
were swept away to-morrow the boundless plan 
would not be thereby in any way materially af- 
fected. 

With these remarks I proceed to give my defi- 
nitions of religion, in the construction of which 
I have endeavored to follow the broad conditions 
laid down for such a purpose. I give several defi- 

39 



d^arDen piomic^ 



nitions, but, though differing in words, they are 
virtually all of the same purport: 

1. The struggle of man to account for the un- 
known. 

2. The endeavor of a finite mind to place itself 
in touch with infinity. 

3. The effort of humanity to assign to itself 
a permanent place in the scheme of the universe. 

4. The craving of the reasoning faculty to 
construct an identification of humanity with what 
follows the dissolution of its individuality in an 
infinity which is beyond its comprehension. 

5. The conscious or unconscious striving of 
the human intellect to explain the eternity which 
succeeds the cessation of conscious individuality 
and its attempt to establish personal and eternal 
relationship with infinity. 

Religion disturbs the mind comparatively little 
in regard to the origin of all things (of being, 
of matter, or of force) or to the infinity which 
precedes individual conscious existence. 

Savage, in his absorbing book. The Religion 
of Evolution, quotes from an unknown author, 
" S " : " Here we are, finite minds in the midst 
40 



ISeligton 

of infinity. And, for the finite that is moving 
toward infinity, there is nowhere a place to an- 
chor, but only the privilege and the opportunity 
of endless exploration." 



41 



Ich weiss nicht in wen die Rose verliebt ; 

Ich aber lieb' euch all' ; 
Rose, Schmetterling, Sonnenstrahl, 

Abendstern und Nachtigall ! 

Heine. 

1 know not on whom the rose is so sweet; 

But my love shall not fail 
To rose and butterfly, sunbeam bright, 

Starlight and nightingale. 



43 




CHAPTER V 

GARDEN TEMPTATIONS 

NE of the pleasantest occupations of 
the — shall I call him " hortophil," or 
j^J would that be too horrible ? I mean 
one who loves his garden, and for 
ordinary use I want one word for it and " gar- 
dener " does not meet the case. Writing is a 
work of great trouble to me, as my hand refuses 
to guide a pen fluently and I am therefore fre- 
quently impelled to seek short-cut expressions. 
What I was going to say was that one of the 
pleasantest occupations of the garden lover in 
the long winter evenings is the contemplation and 
study of the nurseryman's catalogues. Some of 
these annual illustrated price-lists issued by our 
English seedsmen are publications of extraordi- 
nary beauty and artistic finish, and in them we 
feast our eyes on the most perfectly grown speci- 
mens of every attractive flower which the heart 

45 



c0at:Den pio^t^ 



of man can desire. One's longing to acquire spec- 
imens of each lovely plant described and depicted 
in each successive catalogue that arrives becomes 
so pressing that one can not shake it off. One's 
spirit cries for the beloved objects by day and 
dreams of them by night: 

" Quien pasa las noches sonando con tigo y 
pasa los dias llorando por ti." 

Temptation, thy name is Nurseryman's Cata- 
logue ! And if ever a temptation was made to be 
fallen into it is this one. Whoever takes up one of 
these irresistible, illustrated catalogues is fore- 
doomed to buy, whether he can afford it or not. 
Such a consideration is of no consequence. I am 
naturally strong myself, in the absence of tempta- 
tion ; and being strong I do not give it the go-by 
when it presents itself before me. The more 
alluring its garb the more determined do I become 
not to be weak and evade it. I close with it and if 
it is stronger than I am, it engulfs me. Human 
nature can do no more. 

I also often practise petty economies, which, 
though reputed virtuous, is a much more expen- 
sive luxury than buying plants one has no room 
46 



ctD^artien CemptationjsJ 



for and can not afford. The saving of sixpence 
on three or four occasions successively I find 
always results in a moral elation which nothing 
less than the needless outlay of a sovereign can 
assuage. 

The deduction I make from this and from other 
kindred experiences is that there is no virtue in 
being always virtuous. The virtue becomes so 
thick that one finds himself in the position of one 
who from always walking barefooted contracts 
protecting callosities on his feet. One must wear 
shoes that are taken off periodically to keep one's 
sole tender. 

Predestination to succumb to the temptation 
of Seedsman's catalogue recalls Omar Khayyam 
to my mind : 

Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin 
Beset the path I was to wander in, 

Thou w^ilt not -with predestination too 
Enmesh, and then account my fall a sin I 

Oh Thou, who man of baser clay didst make 
And who with Eden didst devise the snake, 
For all the ill wherewith the face of man 
Is blackened — man's forgiveness give and take. 

47 



(0arDen jHojsatc^ 



I can forgive some of my plants for their un- 
intended lapses and breaches of convention. Two 
or three anemones last year each had a couple of 
flowers on them from November all through the 
winter and this year they are doing likewise. A 
polyanthus and a hcpatica have also been in flower 
since November, and as I write we are in Christ- 
mas week. How cheering it is to see even an 
isolated flower in the open at this season of the 
year in England! 

I have put out for early flowering a bed, a 
small one, of hepaticas all by themselves, another 
good-sized one of polyanthus, and a third of for- 
get-me-nots, which should, in their pure, sweet 
blue, look quite charming in a mass. The hepat- 
icas, too, are such pretty welcome little flowerets, 
blooming as. they do in frost and snow when 
there is so little bright coloring otherwise to be 
seen. All three plants named, moreover, are so 
truly serviceable, and may be described when the 
spring bedding-out season comes in like the 
empty bottles which are called Marines, " They 
have done their duty and are ready to do it again." 
They have only to be laid away in the ground 
48 



mthm Cemptatfonjs 



in some corner till the following autumn, when 
they are ready again to perform their duties 
afresh and cheer us with their bright looks. 

When we are accustomed to the usual 
profusions of daily life even an isolated joy like a 
single flower in winter is a real pleasure. It is 
profusion that kills all the enjoyment of life, the 
secret of which is moderation. If one could 
only always be on one's guard and stop short of 
satiety! When once the demon of satiety takes 
possession true enjoyment is gone. Our motto 
should be " always to get up from the table of 
pleasure hungry." To satiate an appetite is not 
only to destroy it for the time being, but on each 
occasion to blunt its edge for future use, till after 
a short time its keenness becomes increasingly 
and irretrievably dulled. We know this and 
realize its truth ; but how many of us, in the mad 
race for saturation of enjoyment, can make it a 
rule to be strictly adhered to? 

My petunias had produced in the autumn a num- 
ber of self-sown seedlings which looked fresh and 
strong when the parent was dying in their midst, 
like the little scorpions I have seen eating their 
4 49 



(tDiartien jmojsaicjs 



mother. I had some of them potted off and put 
under glass, where they seem to be doing well. 
I am now wondering when they will flower, and 
whether they will justify the experiment. 

A good many violets are in bloom, not only 
the Parma ones in a frame, but also the common 
ones out in the open. Last year some patches 
blossomed so freely that the ground looked quite 
blue with them. I have seldom seen them flower so 
profusely before, except in fields in Switzerland, 
and their behavior was not at all in keeping with 
the character for modesty which they universally 
enjoy. They did not hesitate to flaunt their 
charms in the most demonstrative and unblushing 
manner. 

An occasional lapse of weakness of this de- 
scription, however, according to the theory just 
propounded, can not be regarded as vice. The 
most immaculate and unassailable modesty must, 
I suppose, sometimes be permitted to display its 
charms or there would be no evidence of the ex- 
istence of anything to be diffident about. 

Some Parma violets were left out in the open 
the previous winter, and in a quite unsheltered 
SO 



d^artien Cemptation^s 



spot, too. They apparently suffered very little 
from it, and, although not so luxuriant as their 
protected brethren, they flowered freely in the 
spring and are occupying the same ground a sec- 
ond winter in good health and strength. Even 
violets fade, though, especially when plucked, and 
their turn must come sooner or later, like the rest. 



51 



In a land of clear colors and stories, 
In a region of shadowless hours, 

Where earth has a garment of glories 
And a murmur of musical flowers. 

Swinburne. 



S3 




CHAPTER VI 

GARDEN PETS, AND OTHERS 

HAT a contrast is -a tropical garden 
even in winter and spring to one 
such as we in the north are accus- 
tomed to! The luxuriance of the 
two particular tropical gardens, a town one and 
a country one, to which I refer, was sufficient 
even at Christmas time to clothe the landscape 
in rich foliage, in many parts shortly followed by 
the profuse efflorescence of the trees and shrubs. 
I lavished much care and affection on these gar- 
dens for some years and always like to dwell upon 
the rapid and full generosity of the return with 
which nature repaid the labor bestowed upon 
them. 

My town garden was encircled inside its walls 
by a carriage drive densely shaded by an avenue 
of evergreen, dark-foliaged trees, Mimusops clcngi, 
and the sweet-scented Champack, backed by a 

55 



(E>artien jHo^atcjs 



broad shrubbery of variegated and gorgeously 
colored shrubs, Crotons, Hibiscus, Aurelias, Panaxes, 
Durantas, the flaming Poinsettia, Dracmias, and 
many other beautiful plants and bushes, while 
the trees were further adorned with creepers and 
orchids. 

In the center was a large lawn of the purest 
and greenest grass that can be seen anywhere, 
sentineled in its corners by tall spreading " Flam- 
boyants " (Poinciana rcgia) whose immense bril- 
liant mass of fire-like blossoms eclipsed every- 
thing else while it lasted. 

The drive had a cross-road which led through 
a porch under an outlying wing of the house. This 
porch was an object of great beauty, covered as 
it was with creepers — Ficiis stipiilata, with its fine 
ivy-like leaves, and the gigantic variegated Pothos 
clinging close to and clothing the masonry, the 
whole entwined and festooned with Hoyas and 
Beaumontia grandiHora. The Beaiimontia, to my 
mind, is the most magnificent of creepers, and the 
luxuriance of its growth and opulence of its bloom 
are probably unsurpassed by any other of its kind. 
It mounts to the summit of high trees, say of forty 
56 




This Porch was of Great Beauty. 



to fifty feet, in two years, and when wreathed in 
its great massive clusters of rich, white, open, 
trumpet-shaped flowers, presents a truly gorgeous 
spectacle. 

The lawn was usually rendered more attractive 
by the graceful pose of a pair of cranes. At one 
time I kept tall, gray Saras cranes, with red heads, 
and at another time Demoiselle cranes and a 
white-necked stork, a very wise and sedate bird. 
They all lived in and stalked about the garden at 
their ovinn sweet will and naturally became very 
tame. But the most characteristic and affection- 
ate bird I ever kept is the great hornbill. 

I have had two specimens of this bird on differ- 
ent occasions and both of them showed them- 
selves of the same marked character and intelli- 
gence. They both slept in a box nailed to the 
wall, and the first one used to spend his day sitting 
by the gatekeeper at the sill of the gateway. He 
never once showed the least inclination to pass 
that self-imposed barrier to explore the streets 
of the town, though he would remain for hours 
at a time intently watching all that passed 
by in the outer world. Nothing disturbed his 

57 



(BarDeiT jlio^satos 



equanimity; and, as I observed more than once, 
when an unusually venturesome dog rushed at 
him, he never allowed himself to be driven from 
his post. He remained quite still, and as the 
dog almost touched him he suddenly opened his 
enormous beak to its fullest extent. It was curious 
and delightful to see how equally prompt the 
canine would-be aggressor dissimulated by pre- 
cipitately turning a little aside and assuming an 
extraordinary interest in some stone or weed 
close by, as if that were the sole object of his 
rapid excursion. 

In the early morning the bird, after I had had 
him a short time, always placed himself on the 
steps at the house door waiting for me to come 
out into the garden, around which he would then 
follow me in his ungainly hops. If I passed out 
of the door without taking any notice of him he 
quickly followed and gently seized my trousers 
or my fingers with his beak to remind me of his 
presence. 

My second specimen was also a most affection- 
ate pet. Like the first, he exhibited no desire to 
go either out of the garden or into the house, and 

58 



(0arDen ^e% anti ^t^tx^ 

he never put his foot inside the door, even when 
coaxed to do so, till one morning, to my great 
surprise, he flew from a tree close by into the open 
v\^indow of my little children's nursery. There 
he sat on the floor looking with a sad and rolling 
eye at the final packing of boxes and preparations 
for departure, for in an hour they were about to 
leave the country for England. He must have 
known and realized this, for nothing else had ever 
lured him into the house before and he never en- 
tered it afterward. It was one of the most touch- 
ing tributes of attachment I have known. 

Sometimes he was gay and playful. I shall 
never forget how one day he was evidently con- 
sumed with an irresistible desire to join in a game 
of lawn-tennis. Whilst the game was going on 
he flopped into the middle of the court and tried 
to seize a ball. He was " shooed" away ; but re- 
turned again and again, always to meet with the 
same fate. At last he saw his chance, got a ball 
in his beak and conveyed it to the low flat roof 
of an outhouse, where he had a game with it 
by himself. 

Poor bird ! he came to a most tragic end. The 
59 



daiartien piomit^ 



great hornbill is a clumsy bird and a very top- 
heavy and weak flier, and these disabilities 
brought about his death. He was on the branch 
of a tree in the garden upon which somehow or 
other he lost his hold. He was precipitated head 
foremost on to the ground without being able to 
recover himself, and broke his neck. — R. I. P. 

The only other bird I have had which compared 
in intelligence and character with the hornbill 
was a small bird of the parrot tribe, called in 
Ecuador Cherlecres and in Brazil Marianita. One 
of these charming little creatures accompanied me 
everywhere on my travels for many months and 
I never had him imprisoned in a cage or tied up. 
He was, of course, pinioned. The height of his 
bliss was to climb up my clothes till he reached 
my shoulder, where he would sit contentedly and 
whistle. He never screamed after I had once or 
twice evinced my strong aversion to such harsh 
noises. He allowed me to scratch him under the 
wings, and — the great repugnance of birds — even 
to lay him flat on his back, in which position, 
until told to : " Fica morto ! " he would remain 
" dead " till ordered to rise again. He traveled 
60 



cie>arDen ptt^, anti €)t]^er0 

with me in the wilds and in civiHzation, in boats, 
steamers, and in a sailing ship on the ocean — 
always loose and happy in his liberty. At a hotel 
I stayed at he wandered about everywhere, and 
when one day he was not to be found, I was taken 
to the kitchen, where I perceived him on a long 
table in front of the cooks, very busy tasting the 
good things they were preparing. 

As this chapter seems to have slid from horti- 
culture into zoology, I can not while on the sub- 
ject of the intelligence of animals resist the 
temptation of narrating the most remarkable case 
of the clear exercise of reasoning which I have 
myself witnessed in an animal. 

It was an orang-utan, almost full-grown, and 
as far as my memory serves me a male. He 
was in a spacious cage separated by bars from 
another similar adjoining one which was un- 
occupied. At the back of each cage was a second 
compartment, or bedchamber, with raised board- 
ing and straw upon it. 

After giving my very anthropomorphous 
friend some bread to eat, I threw a piece into the 
next cage out of his reach. He made several en- 

6i 



dOiarDen pio^aic^ 



deavors with his long arms to take it and finding 
this of no avail tried with his legs (or, should I 
say in the case of quadrumana, posterior arms?), 
which, of course, were shorter. Finding himself 
thus nonplussed, he hesitated; but after a few 
moments' apparent reflection his mind was made 
up. He retired into his bedchamber, whence he 
at once returned, dragging some of the straw 
with him. This he then twisted roughly together 
into a primitive sort of rope, and taking the two 
ends in his hand pushed his arm through the bars 
and " fished " for the bread with the bight or 
loop. After one or two misses he caught the 
prize and triumphantly drew it toward him. 

Now, I do not wish to depreciate the intelli- 
gence of other orang-utans and chimpanzees 
at the London Zoo, who learn to count straws 
and exhibit proofs of self-abnegation in taking 
small pieces of apple whilst leaving the larger 
ones for the keeper ; but as an example of the un- 
tutored and deliberate exercise of the reasoning 
faculty I think my record occupies a higher plane. 
Indeed, many human beings, and perhaps a very 
large proportion of them, vain as we are of our 
62 



intellectual powers, would not have been able to 
exert their faculties to such excellent effect in 
similar circumstances. 

The orang-utan demonstrated unmistakably 
that man is not the only genus and species " ra- 
tionis capax," a fact which ought to humble our 
pride. 



63 



'Sag ich's euch, geliebte B&ume, 
Die ich ahndevoll gepflanzt, 
Als die wunderbarsten Traume 
Morgenrothlig tnich umtanzt ? 
Ach, ihr wisst es, wie ich liebe. 
Die so schon mich wieder liebt. 
Die den reinsten meiner Triebe 
Mir noch reiner wiedergiebt." 

Shall I tell you, dearest trees, mine, 

■Wistful planted in the ground, 
Whilst the most amazing visions 

Circled like the dawn around ? 
Oh ! you know it, how I love her 

Who my love restores so true, 
Who my purest inspirations, 

Purer still reflects like you. 



65 




CHAPTER VII 

TROPICAL TREES 

N the country garden that I loved in 
the tropics there were many beauti- 
ful trees and shrubs; great clumps 
of tall, swaying bamboos of va- 
rious species, graceful groups of palms, large 
spreading rain-trees {Pithccolohium saman), the 
canopied and sweet-scented Divi-Divi, the flaming 
Poinciana, the rich golden Cassia fistula, the deli- 
cately fringed mauve Lagerstroemia regina, the 
silver- and golden-balled Anthoccphalus cadamba, 
and many other large and glorious flowering 
trees. 

The creepers, too, were a sight to behold ; large 
masses of mauve Bougainvillea, brilliant orange 
Bignonia venusta, bright blue Clitoria and Convol- 
vulus Pentanthus, red and white Quisqualis, lilac 
pink Tecoma, slate blue Petroca, crimson Poivrea 
Coccinea, pure canary yellow Allamanda, the rich 
67 



daiarDen i^Xojsaiog 



pink Antigonon — surely a sufficient variety of 
massive coloring to please the most exacting. 

The growth of all the vegetation was marvel- 
ous, especially that of the rain-tree and the giant 
bamboo. The former, though planted as small 
trees two to three feet high and as thin as slate- 
pencils in an avenue six feet from each side of a 
carriage drive, at the end of their second year had 
met and formed an archway eighteen to twenty 
feet high over the road. At five years of age their 
stems attained a thickness of eighteen inches to 
two feet, and their height, with a wide spread of 
foliage, over forty feet. 

The growth of a bamboo is perhaps even more 
remarkable. The clump of Bambusa gigantea 
would in one season throw up fifteen to twenty 
stems five to six inches in diameter to the height 
of about fifty to sixty feet in two months! Im- 
agine the vigorous constructive elaboration that 
must take place to build up such a mass of sub- 
stantial material from the soil and the atmosphere, 
and what force must be exerted to draw the neces- 
sary constituents together and adjust them to 
their new structure ! 

68 



Cropical CteejsJ 



Besides the trees in the garden, I must mention 
a few other specially attractive ones which flour- 
ished in the neighborhood, such as the charming 
Baiihinia variegata, various splendid large speci- 
mens of which always reminded me of some fair 
spirit being wafted from " under the violets " up 
toward heaven in a cloud of delicate airy blos- 
som, and the Cassia nodosa, appareled for fully two 
months on end with lovely rose-pink drapery 
more dainty and fresher than apple blossom. The 
dazzling pure orange claws, sheathed in deep 
olive-green velvet, of the Butca frondosa can also 
not pass unnoticed; but there are so many strik- 
ingly beautiful flowering trees in the tropics that 
I can not attempt to describe more than these 
few, which form the most vivid pictures in my 
mind at the moment. 

In the rose garden I had a rose called " Baronne 
Pelletan de Kinkellan." It was a beautiful dark 
red one. I have looked for it in vain in the cata- 
logues which now come before me, but have been 
unable to find it, though I should much like to 
have it again. Perhaps, like some of its fair 
sisters, it has an alias. 

69 



c0attien pioMc^ 



Among trees, my allegiance has never swerved 
from Albizzia paludosa, which, on the whole, I think 
is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen, if one 
can say that one species is more attractive than 
others of entirely diverse type and habit. It would 
be like determining that one admired only fair 
women; and so perhaps one does so long as one 
of that divine type is reflected upon the retina 
of the eye or mind. But let a dark beauty of 
chiseled feature and flashing eye step on the 
scene and one's allegiance begins to waver. One 
says to himself, and perchance even would wish 
to say to her: " Before, I thought I loved only fair 
women, but now I am sure I love them dark ! " 
Even as I record my undivided and supreme de- 
votion to the Albizzia, radiant images of superb 
cedars and firs present themselves before me and 
remind me of the superlative admiration I gave 
them when honored by their presence. There are 
of course trees of different complexion, just as 
there are women. The lime and the birch I re- 
gard as specimens of the fair type, and the cedar, 
cypress, and Scotch fir as specimens of the dark 
type of beauty. Most trees, like most human be- 

70 




The Most Beautiful Tree 1 Have Ever Seen. 



Croptcal Creeps 



ings, are between the two, and the vast majority 
of them are similarly crowded together and take 
their form from the multitude which surrounds 
them, living through their span of life without 
ever having stretched their limbs independently 
and without ever having experienced the joy of 
learning their capabilities in isolation. It is only 
in solitude that the tree or the mind can develop 
its own habit, in a freedom and originality which 
are incompatible with the cramping and monot- 
onous influences of a perpetually gregarious so- 
cial existence. 

My special inamorata, for scientific nomencla- 
ture regards all trees as feminine, the Albissia, is 
a blond beauty, tall and divinely fair. Her trunk 
is smooth, light gray in color, and she begins to 
spread her limbs soon after emerging from the 
soil. She multiplies and expands them, gradually 
pressing them upward through the air till they 
overtop all her companions. At about thirty to 
thirty-five feet from the ground her trunk divides 
itself into some score of stems and branches sep- 
arating from each other little by little. The first 
foliage begins to show itself at this elevation and 

71 



(0arDen jHojsaios 



the process of easy lateral expansion continues 
as the stems rise and multiply until a gigantic 
bundle of plumes ninety feet in height and pro- 
portioned in the most perfect grace has been con- 
structed. There is no single main stem beyond 
five feet from the ground, and the whole tree in 
its full plumage has the appearance of a most ele- 
gantly fashioned and colossal posy. 

Peerless beauties, of such striking dimensions 
as the Alhizzia I have tried to describe, are of 
course few; but in the humbler walks of plant- 
life there are innumerable unobtrusive graces, 
none the less alluring and instructive for being 
diminutive, retiring, and artless. 

There is often more faultlessness in small and 
unobtrusive things than in great ones, possibly 
because the former have less accommodation for 
big faults. There is undoubtedly ampler scope 
for great failings and more temptation to commit 
them in great people ; hence, " noblesse oblige " 
to help to keep them straight. The law of com- 
pensation imposes additional obligations and 
duties with every* bounty conferred. 

As regards dimensions, we are all apt to pay an 
72 



Cropical '€tm 



inordinate proportion of tribute to mere size, 
which is probably an unformulated acknowledg- 
ment of our own insignificance in space. We are 
lost in wonder at the magnitude of infinity and 
our minds fail to grasp it. But can we understand 
and is it not equally amazing that there should be 
nothing so small that it is not capable of illimita- 
ble subdivision into endless infinity? 



73 



Er ist so Kalt, der fremde Sonnenschein, 
Ich mochte, ja ich mocht', zu Hause sein ! 

Herwogh. 

The alien sunshine chills in every pore, 
I long and yearn to be at home once more. 



75 




CHAPTER VIII 

THE CHILD AND THE GARDEN 

FTER our little excursion into the 
tropics we must now return home 
again, for the homing instinct is 
potent in all sentient and intelligent 
beings. We are not always able to explain to 
ourselves the cause of this desire to return home 
which accompanies most of us through life, 
though of course it is manifest enough where the 
recollections of childhood and early development 
have been pleasant ones, as I hope they are in the 
vast majority of cases. 

But there is something more than this in it, and 
the instinct frequently exists apart from visible 
external allurements. It is, I suppose, the uncon- 
scious impression of the earliest period of depend- 
ence, when the child has virtually no separate ex- 
istence and when every necessity and want has 
been supplied by fostering care upon which its 

77 



(0arDen piomit^ 



very life and nourishment depended. Even apart 
from affection, this impression remains and draws 
the weary and troubled at all periods of life back 
to what was the haven of its origin. 

The feeling or passion has been well described 
in a charming German song by Gumbert, Das 
theure Vaterhaus, of which I will give a transla- 
tion for those who do not know or are unable to 
appreciate the original : 

I know of something dearest 

Upon God's great wide world, 
That round my heart clings nearest 

And closest ever furled. 
No friend, not e'en a sweetheart, 

Can lure my love to roam 
From longings keen for fatherland 

And the beloved old home. 

Through life, amidst all pleasures 

And joys that fill the breast, 
The heart of hearts still treasures 

The greater bliss of rest. 
Hot tears of tender yearning 

From heart and eyes must come 
At thought of dear old fatherland 

And the paternal home. 
78 



And at the end, when of this life 
The bitter course is run, 
Then set me up a grave-mound 
With flowers in the sun. 
But take out from this bosom 
Nor farther let it roam 
The weary heart which rest can find 
Nowhere but in its home. 

I must confess that the song loses in the trans- 
lation much of the spirit breathed in the original ; 
but that is almost inevitable in translations. 

For my own part, I live in the garden, looking 
upon the house more as a temporary abode and 
shelter for the night> and I consider that a garden 
should be a home in itself and, besides other 
things, first of all the abode of innocent, happy 
childhood, the later recollections of which can 
never be purer or more unalloyed than when 
dwelling upon the sweet-scented memories of the 
place in the open air where it played and frolicked. 
Perhaps no one has better described what it 
should be to all ages of life, to " the three Ages 
of Love," as the old song has it, than the poet 
laureate in his gem-like poem Had I a Garden. 



79 



dB^arDen jHojsaic^ 



Had I a garden, it should lie 

All smiling to the sun, 
And after bird and butterfly 

Children should romp and run ; 
Filling their little laps with flowers, 

The air with shout and song. 
While golden crests in guelder bowers 

Rippled the whole day long. 

Had I a garden, alleys green 

Should lead where none would guess, 
Save lovers, to exchange unseen, 

Shy whisper and caress. 
For them the nightingale should sing 

Long after it was June, 
And they should kiss and deem it spring, 

Under the harvest moon. 

Had I a garden, claustral yews 

Should shut out railing wind, 
That Poets might on sadness muse 

With a majestic mind ; 
With ear attuned and god-like gaze 

Scan Heaven, and fathom Hell, 
Then through life's labyrinthine maze 

Chant to us, "All is well!" 

Had I a garden, it should grow 

Shelter v/here feeble feet 
Might loiter long, or wander slow, 

And deem decadence sweet ; 
80 




^ 



Her Beloved White Pigeons Settled About Her. 



Ci^e Ci^ilD anD ti^e (0arDen 

Pausing, might ponder on the past, 
Vague twilight in their eyes, 

Wane calmer, comelier, to the last, 
Then die, as Autumn dies. 



All gardens, I suppose, bear traces of child- 
hood, either in the shape of the little retired plots 
called " the children's gardens " or in other forms. 
In my garden, the period of children's plots, alas ! 
has passed; but I am still able to cherish marks 
of reminiscence left by little visitors whose fairy 
presence has from time to time vied with the flow- 
ers in bringing home to one the beauties and joys 
of nature. One delightful little being, herself one 
of the fairest and gayest of flowers, has left be- 
hind her numerous mementoes. One of these is 
a rose-bush, " Black Prince," specially appropri- 
ated, on her own initiative, by the little " White 
Princess," to be cared for and tended in future on 
her behalf. 

Another is a real memento m^ri, the grave of one 
of her beloved white pigeons about the place, who 
flew to her and settled about her as though they 
also, like the flowers, recognized her as one of 
themselves. The poor bird fell a prey to the 
6 8i 



(harden jHojsaicjj 



terrier " Tim," usually a well-behaved and hu- 
mane dog where house pets are concerned. In 
this case, however, a moment of excitement evi- 
dently made him forget his accustomed self-con- 
trol in the face of temptation, or possibly he also 
thought that temptation was made to be fallen 
into and that to flee from it was a sign of weak- 
ness. However that may be, the consequences 
of wrong-doing are never confined to the wrong- 
doer, which must be the reason why wrong-doing 
is wrong, and the bird was killed. The little 
" Princess " demanded an immediate funeral ; but 
as bedtime was near this was deferred to the next 
day, when the obsequies were performed and the 
body was consigned to earth under the beech-tree, 
close to the grave of a departed specimen of the 
offending canine race. The selection of an epi- 
taph for the tombstone, which consisted of a large 
wooden label, next became a subject of anxious 
deliberation, the final solution resulting in the 
eloquent and original inscription : " Poor Pigeon 
— Naughty Timmy." 

A remarkable incident, which I must relate, 
occurred among these pigeons — mostly white fan- 

82 



Ci^e Ci^ilD and ti^e (BarDen 

tails and magpies. The first young bird fledged 
after her lamented majesty's death last year de- 
veloped a perfectly drawn black edge over the 
whole arc of its otherwise pure white tail. 

Other souvenirs, forgotten at the departure and 
which await their owner's return, were a little 
wooden spade and a golliwog. The poor golliwog 
presumably must have strayed away from the 
house and lost his bearings. When his mistress 
departed he was not to be found anywhere and 
was given up for lost. What was my astonish- 
ment, therefore, about a week later, to find him 
sitting on one of the cross seats of the punt which 
floats under the name of the little " Princess " on 
the stream running through the garden, exalted 
in its humility by the appellation of " The Drain." 
The poor creature, though still possessed of suffi- 
cient strength to sit up, had a most wobegone 
appearance, and the way in which his head 
drooped upon his chest, and the vacant, glassy 
look in his eye, denoted eloquently the mental and 
physical privation and suffering he must have 
undergone. I was really quite startled when I 
saw him again, not having heard from any one 
83 



(0arDen jttojsatc^ 



of his reappearance, and my imagination at once 
made clear to me what adventurous hardships he 
must have been exposed to. I conjectured that, 
without the graceful and charming companions 
of the golliwog in the story-book, having lost his 
way, he wandered about for days, anxious and 
wet, for the weather was unpropitious, in the 
shrubberies, sleeping the nights under such shel- 
ter as the thickest box-bushes or rhododendrons 
afforded. At length, having searched in vain for 
his friends, who were comfortably housed in the 
doll's house and story-book, he doubtless reached 
the banks of " The Drain," famished, bedraggled, 
and footsore. The gardener says he found him 
on the ground and put him in the punt; but that 
must be a pleasant fiction, for my own conviction 
is that from the shores of " The Drain " the golli- 
wog saw the punt with his mistress' name painted 
upon it in red letters and that having learned to 
read he recognized these, swam off from the bank, 
clambered over the side of the punt and sat him- 
self upon the seat to rest from his exertions. If 
any one doubts this account of what must have 
happened they are welcome to inspect " The 

84 



Ci^e Ci^ilti and ti^e c^atDen 

Drain," the punt with the name on it, and the 
golliwog himself ; and I can further, if need be, as- 
sure any disbeliever that I really found the little 
dark-complexioned gentleman on the seat looking 
very disconsolate, and — he was wet! Could fur- 
ther proof be needed, even by Sherlock Holmes? 
The golliwog may, moreover, still be seen sitting 
on a shelf over the window of my dressing-room, 
and he is now dry. I have no wish to fortify my 
case by keeping him permanently moist. 

I can not end this chapter without quoting 
Harold Begbie's beautiful lines on Childhood : 

How like an open flow'r thou art, 

Dear life aglow with all that's sweet, 

Blue sunny eyes, a bounding heart, 
Innocent hands and feet. 

In what cool paths thy footsteps run, 
A garden plot thine orbed earth : 

And all thy quest beneath the sun 
Innocent joy and mirth. 

Thy prattle thrills the quivering lark. 
Thy laughter tips the rippling corn. 

All happy things rejoicing mark 
Thy coming, like the morn. 

85 



dDfarDen jEojsatcjs 



The sunbeams glint thy woodland way, 
The squirrel skips before thy feet, 

And bluebells in the bracken say — 

Little hands gather us : we are sweet 1 

I know not on this thorny earth 

A purity so white, intense ; 
Sin howling at the doors of mirth 

Shrinks from such innocence. 

Oh that the chafing waves of time 
With muffled moan and stifled roar, 

With all the ages' silt and slime. 
Fret at this green, green shore I 

Oh that my jealous eyes must see 
This joyance fade from lip and eye, 

And ever 'twixt my child and me 
A chilling shadow lie. 

Oh that this smooth white brow must cloud, 
The calm of these brave eyes be riven, 

Not all thy thoughts be said aloud. 
Not all thy smiles be given I 

Oh that these little feet must stand 
Where now I stumble, grope and pray. 

And where another Father's hand 
Alone must guide thy way 1 



86 



Die Herrlichkeit der AVelt ist immer adaquat der 
Herrlichkeit des Geistes, der sie betrachtet. 

Heine. 

The splendor of the world is always commensurate 
With the elevation of the mind which contemplates it. 



87 




CHAPTER IX 

TRAINING THE GARDEN 

HAD always heard that very old 
elms were dangerous trees on ac- 
count of the risk of collapse of their 
branches; but I did not realize the 
warning adequately till last winter, when sud- 
denly, one quiet day, when there was no wind, a 
limb fell off a large elm which stands just inside 
my hedge near the road. The main branch meas- 
ured twenty-two inches in diameter and the whole 
of it was sound and without a trace of decay in 
any part of it. It fell in a most considerate man- 
ner, its main fork astride the hedge, which it 
therefore left undamaged. I shortened the outer 
leg and with the aid of a rope and some strong 
men tumbled the whole branch across the road. 
The proportions of the bough may be realized 
when I mention that it provided exercise for my- 
self and guests, who are always expected to join 
89 



(Bavhm pio^aic^ 



in the labor, on and off during most of the winter, 
in sawing and cutting. 

It furnished many sturdy blocks as pedestals 
for large flower tubs and for other purposes; 
heavy frames for rustic benches; cross-sections 
polished I made up into tables and stools, and the 
house was supplied with firelogs through the cold 
weather, the cutting and splitting of which 
warmed one thoroughly on the bleakest day. 

It was sad to see the poor tree, still strong and 
sound to all appearance, losing his limbs, another 
smaller one having also dropped off some months 
later. 

I can, however, imagine his saying, like The 
Fallen Elm, in Veronica's Garden: 

Nay, pity me not, I am living still. 
Though prone on the plowed-up earth. 

They will carry me in from the well-walled garth, 

Where the logs are split and stored, 
And lay me down where the blazing hearth 

Glints warm on the beakered board. 

I shall roar my stave through the chimney's throat, 

Oh, I am not dead, though my head droops low, 
That used in the Spring to soar 
90 



Crammg tl^e (^attien 



To the sky half-way, and the friendless crow 
Will nest in my fork no more. 

So sorrow you not if I cease to soar, 

And am sundered by saw and bill: 
Rather hope that, like me, when you're green no 
more, 

You may comfort your kindred still. 

These thoughts are certainly very comforting 
when one is pained by the sight of the living dis- 
solution of a vegetable monarch in all its apparent 
undecayed health and strength, and at the summit 
of its glory. 

In trying to explain to myself the reason of this 
seemingly unaccountable dismemberment of very 
old elms, I notice that the lower and heavier 
branches, probably by reason of their accretion 
of bulk, very gradually assume an increasingly 
horizontal position, thus unfitting them more and 
more to bear the strain of their own weight, 
which, as their angle becomes more obtuse in re- 
lation to the parent stem, eventually compasses 
their collapse. No doubt the fiber also loses elas- 
ticity and becomes more brittle with age. Some 
of the lower branches of another, my favorite, 

91 



c^artien jHojJaicis 



elm stand out almost horizontal from the trunk, 
and from their great weight I fear their doom is 
also not far off. 

A fine, large, and well-grown ash has also dis- 
appeared from the strip of ground which I call 
" The Wilderness," on the other side of our thirty- 
two feet broad " Drain." It was blown down in a 
violent gale which swept over the country last 
October. It had a fine, sound, straight stem, over 
fifty feet of which were sold for timber, whilst the 
branches again served for useful domestic pur- 
poses. The trunk fell right across the stream, 
and its removal occasioned much hard and inter- 
esting work; but I would much rather see it 
flourishing in its old place among its stately 
fellows, where its presence would be a greater 
comfort to me than its economic utilization. 

It always seems to me a comparatively easier 
and shorter matter to build a royal palace than to 
grow a regal tree, and I am thus correspondingly 
distressed at the loss of what it is at least impos- 
sible to replace within a period measured by the 
ordinary expectation of individual human life. 

The " Wilderness," which I have just men- 
92 



Craining tl^e (0attien 



tioned, was, when I entered into its possession 
and enjoyment with the rest of the domain, a 
small strip of land, bounded by a high and ill-kept 
hedge, and separated from the garden by a 
banked-up brook which I elegantly christened 
" The Drain." It was densely overgrown with 
wild ivy and garlic, the soil thickly interwoven all 
over with the creeping roots of stinging nettles, 
this " jungly " undergrowth shaded by the fine 
but maimed elm aforesaid, a handsome chestnut, a 
few tall and well-grown ash, some alders along 
the water's edge, and a number of firs. 

I had the undergrowth cleared away, the nettles 
and garlic as far as possible rooted out, and put 
in quantities of bluebells, primroses, common 
daffodils, crocuses, lilies-of-the-valley, and other 
roots; whilst I scattered freely about a plentiful 
supply of seed of foxglove, purple loosestrife, and 
meadowsweet. With the last two along the 
bank I planted rushes, marsh-marigold, and water 
forget-me-nots. 

My plan of endeavoring to produce a wilder- 
ness of wild flowers I hope will eventually suc- 
ceed, and if it does the irregular masses of color 

93 



da^artien jEojsatcjs 



will look very pretty under the trees from the 
garden side o£ the stream. The foxgloves have 
come up in thousands, and some of the meadow- 
sweet and loosestrife also exhibited themselves 
last summer, so I may hope they will become 
firmly established. The other things can take 
care of themselves. Some Spanish irises, how- 
ever, were dug out and destroyed by water-rats, 
against which I subsequently waged war with 
considerable success. 

I suppose in time I shall learn how to make 
flowers grow in what was and still strives to re- 
main a wilderness of garlic, nettles, and ivy ; but 
one's education into a proper understanding of 
the secret processes of nature is always a matter 
of time and patience. 

A charming writer who recently made A 
Journey to Nature says: "You want to know 
the secret of nature; well, you will have to be- 
come an obedient part of it, then you will know, 
but you will lose the power and the desire to tell 
it." How many, who have communed with na- 
ture, must have felt this. 

Our education, unfortunately, does not attempt 
94 



emitting ti^e d^arDett 



to place us in our proper relationship with na- 
ture, and we are seldom taught to understand its 
commonest manifestations. How many " edu- 
cated " persons in modern society can explain, for 
instance, what causes the rain to fall, why the sea 
is salt, or what impels the wind to blow? 

We inherit but little knowledge and much 
prejudice and ignorance, and during a great por- 
tion of our so-called educational period our minds 
are still further prejudiced and warped by the 
learning instilled into them against all other con- 
flicting knowledge. We are not trained suffi- 
ciently into simple receptivity of all classes of 
knowledge and taught to observe and appraise 
and compare and deduce for ourselves of our own 
initiative. 

Our great difficulty in mature life is to see 
clearly through the mist in which we have been 
enveloped in our youth and to " depolarize " our 
minds from bias and symbolic jargon. Without 
some determined effort to see things from outside 
our one-sided selves, there is but little possibility 
of our discerning anything as it really is. 

Education ought to impart the means of acquir- 
95 



(lE)arDen piomic^ 



ing knowledge — reading, writing, and arithmetic. 
For the rest, in theory, we should be brought up 
in the gutter, with our minds open and our pow- 
ers of original observation developed to the ut- 
most. In practise, I fear this scheme would not 
answer ; but perhaps more practical results would 
be attained if the theory were kept a little more 
in view than it is. The proper inculcation of a 
spirit of discipline would also be somewhat in- 
compatible with such a theory. Discipline, how- 
ever, is apt to be looked upon by many, like virtue 
or humility, as an excellent attribute — for other 
people. 

The prejudice instilled before the mind reaches 
its strength of independence is, of course, great- 
est in the matter of ethics, as we are not given 
a broad code, as Descartes set to himself, of a 
" Morale par provision," to serve until such time 
as a better one can be substituted. Neither are 
we warned sufficiently that our virtuous inclina- 
tions ought to be watched and are as likely to lead 
us astray as our vices. The latter, if at all pro- 
nounced, are apparent to ourselves as well as to 
others and obtrude themselves for correction and 

96 



Crainlng ti^e (0at:Dcn 



subjugation. But our affections, generosity, so- 
ciability, sensibility, and desire to please are much 
more insidious and are liable to grow and finally 
to run riot till they have led us into trouble and 
even into vice itself. The obvious corollary of 
this would be that it is sounder to enter upon a 
controlled career of moderate vice, to be modified 
and transformed by the experience of the lessons 
it teaches, than to let unbridled virtue pursue its 
mad career unadmonished and unchecked. 

There is only one more item in connection with 
the education of the young which I wish to refer 
to and that is the fatal gift of memory. I always 
call it a fatal gift in youth, as in most cases it is 
made use of at the expense of the free and full de- 
velopment of the understanding and reasoning 
powers. This fact will be patent to all who ob- 
serve and think. 

Memory, though a splendid gift, is apt to do 
away with the necessity of intellectual exertion, 
as wealth only too often supplants the need and 
destroys the desire for work of any description. 



97 



i Donde te escondes, Violeta bella ? 

I Por que asi esquivas mirar la luz ? 
Tu que no puedes vivir sin ella. 

i Buscas de sombras dense capuz ? 

Sal, florecilla, lanza al ambiente 

Tu grata esencia, tu dulce olor; 
Deja que el lirio te bese ardiente, 

Te brinde puro su casto amor. 

Torres Caicedo. 

Beautiful Violet, where art thou hiding ? 

Why dost thou shun to look out on the light ? 
Thou, who thy life to the sun art confiding, 

Seek'st thou by day the concealment of night? 

Flow'ret, come out and distil on the sunbeam 
Thy delicate fragrance, thy perfume so sweet. 

And suffer the lily to kiss thee in one gleam 
Of love pure and chaste, proffered coy at thy feet. 



LofC. 



99 




CHAPTER X 
THE COMING OF SPRING 

HE calendar tells me, as if it were an 
incontrovertible fact, like the rest of 
the events it chronicles, that " spring 
commences " on the 21st day of 
March. But although this is brought to my no- 
tice as a fact in a beautiful garden diary sup- 
plied by one of our great seedsmen, for the mo- 
ment I refuse to accept it, as once, some time ago 
on a sea voyage, after receiving presents and cele- 
brating a day I had given out as my birthday, I 
placidly announced to my disenchanted friends 
and admirers that in personal matters I did not 
consider myself bound by the Gregorian calendar. 
I never could understand what difference it 
might make to them whether my birthday was 
on one date or another, according to their particu- 
lar mode of reckoning ; but it evidently did make 
a difference, and I took their interest in such a 

lOI 



dDiatDen pio^it^ 



detail concerning my first appearance on this sub- 
lunary sphere as a great compliment. I hope they 
will not be annoyed, but will evince an equal 
concern in my affairs, when I now pronounce a 
similar repudiation of an accepted astronomical 
item recorded in the calendars of most civilized 
nations. 

In my garden I wish to consider that spring 
set in on the 7th of March. In so far as the birds 
are concerned it might have begun in the middle 
of January, for many of them have been singing 
since then. Indeed, the larks in the neighboring 
fields have hardly ceased to fill the air with their 
music all the winter. It seems to me that I 
have never crossed the meadows without hear- 
ing them, and I have watched them and lis- 
tened to their songs even in the midst of a snow- 
storm. 

On the 7th and the few days which have elapsed 
since, the garden, in comparison with winter, has 
looked quite gay with its long fringes and clumps 
of crocuses, snowdrops, violets, and hepaticas in 
full bloom, and it is quite clear the winter slumber 
is over, and the hope sown in autumn has devel- 
102 



Cl^e Coming of Opting 

oped into full-fledged expectation. The first 
primroses, chionodoxas, and polyanthus are also 
in flower, whilst the rhododendrons, azaleas, 
cherries, the older anemones, daffodils, and other 
trees and bulbs have pushed out their healthy 
flower-buds. Many of the irises, hyacinths, tulips, 
narcissus, delphiniums, campanulas, sweet-will- 
iams, Canterbury bells, and pansies show vig- 
orous new growth; and the leaf-buds have 
swollen and are opening on roses, honeysuckle, 
Billy Button, clematis, lilacs, and others. The 
hawthorn will soon be ready to burst, and on one 
patch of hedge, which is always the earliest, the 
buds are unfolding into little fresh green leaves. 
The crimson ramblers are covered with new ver- 
dure, and the protected seedlings of annuals are 
giving promise in thousands. The early sweet- 
peas have braved the winter, by the aid of a little 
protecting straw, are two to three inches above 
ground, and have been " sticked." 

If all this, when I am now writing on the loth 
of March, is not stronger evidence than the bald 
and unsupported statement that " spring com- 
mences " on the 2ist of March, may some of my 
103 



(0atDen jHojsJatcjs 



buds be cut off by late frosts — as they probably 
will be. 

The Spring has come ! The buds peep out 
To see "God's lidless eye" again, 

To feel the glow its glory sheds 
In quickened sprout, from root and grain. 

Each bulb and stalk puts forth its bloom 

At mandate of that orb sublime. 
Whose mighty gaze draws out their blush 

And keeps them flaming all the time. 

But modesty and homage too 

In shrub and timber neither fail : 
Their limbs bared in the winter's blast 

With soft green mantle now the veil. 

Thus may we learn from tree and root 

Our inward squalor to entomb. 
And let Spring bud within our hearts 

To bring forth grace in bounteous bloom. 

I wish I were an artist in words, as Pierre 
Loti, for instance, to paint the beauties of the 
awakening of vegetable nature and the aspects 
of the landscape in spring as he depicts the 
scenes he visits in his Japonneries d' Automne. 
No landscape ever idealized on canvas can, to my 
104 



Ci^e Coming of ^v^i^^ 

thinking, approach the realities one can see daily 
a thousand-fold in garden, wood, and stream; 
and it is for this reason that I always prefer life- 
like pictures of figures, in which phases of char- 
acter, beauty, emotion, and passion may more 
easily be, and sometimes are, transcended. 

I am aware the expression of such views may 
be assailed from many quarters ; but my tastes are 
unorthodox and I do not even play ping-pong or 
seek pleasure in shooting birds. 

After all, beauty is a thing that is felt more by 
those " qui se savourent en silence," than by those 
who break out into facile ecstasy and gush. And 
beauty is without doubt only really appreciated 
where it is deeply felt and penetrates the whole 
being. The mere seeing of beauty as compared 
with the deep sensation of silent and expression- 
less emotion it creates, is rather like comparing 
the practical view of one person, that the sky 
looked as if it had " had a mustard plaster on it " 
and the sea " like mutton gravy getting cold," 
with the speechless rapture pervading the inmost 
senses of another in keen appreciation of a glori- 
ous sunset reflected upon the waters. 
105 



dDJarDen jHojsaicjs 



I always remember how I used to resent such 
an intrusion upon my esthetic conviction as a 
remark that my little children were beautiful. 
That such an observation should be made to me 
who felt their loveliness far deeper than any casual 
comer possibly could, seemed to me like an insult 
to my intelligence and an outrage upon my most 
hallowed perceptions. No doubt others experi- 
ence like sensations in similar circumstances, and 
this being the case, we may derive therefrom the 
moral that it is desirable to exercise great circum- 
spection in our approach, even in commendation, 
upon whatever may appertain to the intimate spir- 
itual domain of others. 

I am afraid if I had put my thoughts into words 
under the provocation to which I have alluded, 
they might have taken some such form as : " You 
idiot! Do you think I do not feel what you only 
see ? " This may sound very ungraceful and un- 
gracious; but one's thoughts are not under the 
same control as their expression. 

In the autumn I planted a wistaria against the 
stem of a tall ash and another one by itself in the 
paddock, where I want to see if I can train it into 
io6 



Ci^e Coming of Spring 

a standard, or at least into a canopy with one 
strong central stem. This will of course require 
stiffening support for some time to come, and the 
branches or shoots which will eventually be al- 
lowed to grow out at the top will no doubt want 
some umbrella or tent-shaped frame to hold 
them up. 

Several Clematis Montana have also been put in, 
one of which is likewise against a tree and an- 
other against a wall, whence it can climb on to an 
old yew, which it shows every intention of doing 
with spirit and thoroughness. A Clematis Henryi, 
a C. Flannnitla, and a C. Coccinca are being grown 
on poles and, as they are all shooting up vigorous- 
ly, I hope they will make some show even this 
year. 

The days are getting so much longer and the 
temperature is so mild that one can enjoy more 
of the fresh air out of the house, which is of im- 
portance. Indeed, I always think that fresh air 
is even of greater value to our health than good 
food, since we nourish our blood with it at every 
breath we draw. What a difference it must make, 
therefore, to our well-being if we habitually 
107 



(0arDen jwiojsaicjs 



breathe good, pure air. There seem, however, to 
be many people, to judge by the manner in which 
they shut themselves up in their houses and in 
railway carriages, who flourish, or at least get 
along creditably, in an atmosphere of carbonic 
acid which makes me feel faint and sick. 



io8 



Es reden und trauemen die Menschen viel 

Von besseren kiinftigen Tagen, 
Nach einem gluecklichen gold'nen Ziel 

Sicht man sie rennen und jagen, 
Die 'Welt wird alt und wird wieder jung, 
Doch der Mensch hofft immer Verbesserung. 

Schiller. 

Men talk by day and dream by night 

Of future better days in store, 
And toward a happier golden height 

Their muscles strive, their spirits soar. 
The world grows old and young again, 
Man's hope fixed on a higher plane. 



109 




CHAPTER XI 

BLOSSOMS 

T occurs to me every now and then 
whilst writing these " reflections " 
that some of them may possibly 
hurt the feelings of, offend, or be 
deplored by some of my friends whose views of 
humanity and its destiny, of life with its ethics 
and morals, and of the relative positions of re- 
ligion and evolution differ from mine. In such 
matters, however, if I set down anything at all, 
and I have proposed myself to indite whatever 
reflections suggest themselves to my mind, I must 
say truthfully what I think. 

The militant missionary spirit is not in me and 
I am neither seeking to make converts nor to dis- 
turb the faith that is in any one, but I give way to 
none in the recognition of the incalculable benefit, 
sometimes to the individual and always to the 
race, of striving after an ideal. The particular 
III 



(0arDen piomic^ 



temperament, however, which strives after a high 
ideal, be this ever so imaginative, illusive, or im- 
possible, it seems to me is just as much the out- 
come and instrument of evolution as is the more 
practical impulse of the struggle for food, pro- 
tection, and the necessities of life generally, all 
of which serve the great object of preserving and 
improving the species. 

I am quite prepared to find that many take 
what they may call a " higher " view ; but I must 
confess that to me nothing seems more magnifi- 
cent and sublime than the inexorable and, what 
astronomers and geologists would term, " sec- 
ular " processes which have been elaborating the 
great scheme of constructive evolution from all 
eternity, on to an infinite future into which our 
limited and finite vision is powerless to penetrate, 
even in speculation. 

Of one thing I feel sure and upon it I have no 
misgivings. It is that nothing I may say can en- 
danger the truth. The truth must always stand, 
however it may be assailed. 

When the divinity student said that in free dis- 
cussion there was danger to truth, the professor 

112 



TBlo^iEJom^ 



replied : " I didn't know Truth was such an in- 
valid. Truth is tough. It will not break, like a 
bubble at a touch ; nay, you may kick it about all 
day, like a football, and it will be round and full at 
evening. Does not Mr, Bryant say that Truth gets 
well if she is run over by a locomotive, while Error 
dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger? I 
never heard that a mathematician was alarmed for 
the safety of a demonstrated proposition. I think, 
generally, that fear of open discussion implies 
feebleness of inward conviction, and great sensi- 
tiveness to the expression of individual opinion is 
a mark of weakness." 

With this statement before me I shall not fear 
that either Truth or my friends can be injured by 
any views I may give expression to. 

I just referred to the immense advantage of 
striving after an ideal, and when I advanced that 
proposition I did not intend to limit the ideal in 
any way. It may be an ideal of moral, intellectual, 
artistic, physical, industrial, or any other excel- 
lence, and it may appertain to the natural ephem- 
eral life of the individual or to the eternal life 
he expects or firmly believes he will embark upon 
8 113 



c0arDen jHo^aicjs 



hereafter. I only wish to submit that the hope 
of attaining such an ideal would equally appear 
to be one of the favored instruments whereby the 
glorious design of evolution accomplishes its ob- 
jects. Hope, like other inspirations, has been 
evolved and developed in us as an aid to our ad- 
vancement. 

Die Hoffnung fuchrt ihn in's Leben ein, 

Sie umflattert den froelichen Knaben, 

Den Juengling bezaubert ihr Geisterschein, 

Sie wird mit dem Greis nicht begraben; 

Denn beschliesst er im grabe den miiden Lauf, 

Noch am Grabe pflanzt er die Hoffnung auf. 

Hope enters with him into life 
And flutters round the joyous child ; 
Its charm sustains the youth in strife 
And with old age is reconciled, 
For loosed in death the weary bond, 
The grave rears hope of things beyond. 

A change of scene has now come over the gar- 
den. April has just passed and brought new and 
enchanting developments in its train. The cro- 
cuses, hepaticas, and snowdrops have long gone 
to their rest, and even all the hyacinths and earlier 
daffodils are over. The beds and foot of the long 
114 



hedge are gay with wall-flowers, polyanthus, for- 
get-me-nots, primroses, and anemones of many 
colors, white, blue, violet, purple, pink, scarlet, 
and lake red ; while in all parts of the garden there 
are tulips and large pansies in flower of the rich- 
est hues and combinations. The cherry blossom 
has been glorious, especially two very large trees, 
so densely clothed in purest white that they 
looked as if they were covered with a thick mantle 
of snow. The first pears have shed their petals. 
They were the most forward in bud among the 
fruit-trees, and my gardener, remarking upon it, 
said : " That's the worst of pears ; a few fine days 
tempt them beyond all bounds." This seems 
somewhat like a vegetable illustration of my 
proposition that temptation is made to be fallen 
into. 

The apples are of course beautiful and this is a 
fat year of blossoms following upon a lean one. 
Many trees are in full bloom and there are others 
to come. 

All the foliage trees and shrubs are clothed in 
tender verdure and only the ash, walnut, and the 
cautious mulberry lag behind. The last of these 
115 



dDiarDen j^o^aic^ 



never exposes his leaves to the remotest risk of 
night frost in spring, and sheds them before his 
neighbors evince any fear of the chills of autumn. 
A short time ago it looked as if the ash would 
come out before the oak ; but our sturdy and " an- 
cient friend " has caught him up and, covered 
with fresh amber-green foliage, has left him far 
behind and only just beginning to put out his 
little flower-tufts. If old country sayings are to 
be relied upon, we shall have a dry summer, as 
we have certainly had a dry April. 

When the oak's before the ash 
There will be a little splash ; 
When the ash before the oak 
There will be a heavy soak. 

The pink flowering currant and the yellow ber- 
beris have been coloring the shrubberies and a 
mauve pink rhododendron is gay with profuse 
bloom. 

On the 1 8th of April I found that a large Gloire 

de Dijon, or " Glor de Dye John," as I frequently 

hear it called, on the south wall of the house, not 

only had a number of well-developed buds upon it, 

ii6 



1310)3530111521 

but also that these were covered with aphides, 
which I promptly brushed off where I could 
reach them. This noxious little insect, however, 
always interests me, as it constitutes the herds 
of liliputian cattle tended and milked by some 
species of ants, and, more interesting still, fur- 
nishes one of the examples in the animal king- 
dom of parthenogenesis, or virginal reproduction, 
among its various methods of procreation. 

I am glad to say the nightingale has returned, 
though he has not yet established himself perma- 
nently for a nightly serenade, as I hope he will a 
little later on. The cuckoo, however, does not 
cease to call from early morn till evening, and his 
" pint " and his flower. Ladies' smock, came with 
him in the hedgerows and meadows. The ap- 
pearance of flies and wasps also denotes the 
change of season. 

My flowers in the grass have in part been a great 
joy, especially the snowdrops, crocuses, scillas, 
and daffodils. Some of the fritillaries and a few 
dog-violets have also come up; but the chiono- 
doxas, tiilipa sylvestris, and anemone appenina have 
done no good. On the other hand, common tulips 
117 



(0arDen jmo^atc^ 



and hyacinths put in the grass their second year 
have flowered well, the spikes of the hyacinths, 
both in beds and in the grass, being as fine as they 
were the first year. Some tulips left in a bed, 
rather deep, a number of years ago, have sent up 
a bunch of flowers regularly each of the four 
springs I have now been here, and some hyacinths 
left undisturbed have flowered better their third 
year than when forced their first season. 

My Gladioli Colvillei, which were well estab- 
lished and I thought quite hardy, had early in 
February thrown up an abundance of leaves, 
showing how well they were thriving. Being 
assured the cold would not hurt them, they were 
left unprotected, with the result that the severe 
frosts between the loth and igth of February cut 
them all down, and it is now, I fear, evident that 
they are not going to grow again. The less for- 
ward ones newly planted in the autumn are safe. 

On one of my garden paths which is lined with 
box some stray violets have become entwined in 
the stems of the box, and in that position have 
flowered profusely, so that a few yards of the path 
have been lined with a neat edging of violets. 
ii8 



The effect is so attractive that at the proper time 
I mean to extend it along both sides of the walk. 
The marsh-marigolds on the margin of " The 
Drain " are flowering profusely, and the meadow- 
sweet, of which I scattered seed two years ago, 
are growing so strong that they promise an 
abundant harvest. 



119 



Diese graue ^Volkenschaa^ 

Stieg aus einem Meer von Freuden; 

Heute muss ich dafiir leiden 
Das ich gestern gliicklich war. 

Heine. 

These gray, sombrous clouds that soar 
Rose up from a sea of gladness ; 
And to-day I'm plunged in sadness 

As I was content before. 



121 




CHAPTER XII 
SUGGESTIONS 

>E are now on the threshold of the 
last week in May, and meteoro- 
logical experts say that the tem- 
perature has been lower so far 
during this " merry " month than for sixty-one 
years past. For my garden I regret it and would 
gladly see my plants and trees enjoying some 
warmth and sunshine, though for myself and my 
own comfort, or discomfort, I accept the weather 
as it comes. The weather itself only seriously 
affects me, apart from solicitude for my surround- 
ings, when the atmosphere is charged with elec- 
tricity and there is " thunder in the air," which 
always depresses me terribly and fills me with a 
vague and unreasoning sense of undefined im- 
pending disaster. 

It has been prognosticated that this weather is 
to last well into June ; but at the moment I am out 
123 



(Batt^m jHoisaicjs 



of temper and bear in mind that scientific experts 
who examined Mont Pelee the day before its erup- 
tion gave assurances that there was no danger to 
be apprehended. I also can not help thinking that 
probably the same person who classified lies into 
lies, d — d lies, and statistics, must have tabulated 
liars of varying degrees into liars, d — d liars, and 
scientific experts. But, as already said, I am out 
of humor, perhaps more with the income-tax col- 
lector than the weather, and " across the barren 
desert of my brain there strays not even the 
starved camel of an idea." 

At present I am looking at things with what 
may be called a jaundiced eye, and the prepara- 
tions which are going on for the coming corona- 
tion, the occupation of the Lord Chancellor hear- 
ing and deciding claims from the high and mighty 
to perform menizJ services, the defacement of 
Westminster Abbey and other churches and ven- 
erable public buildings with hoardings for sight- 
seers, the bacchanalian celebration of " Hog- 
manay Night " a short time ago, the sight of a 
British funeral with its ghastly nodding plumes 
and hired mourners, all parade themselves before 
124 



^uggejstionjs 



my disordered vision and make me wonder 
whether the community I belong to is really an 
enlightened and civilized one. The coronation 
and the grotesqueness of its pageants makes me 
reflect how the gods must laugh, if their exer- 
cising any such human attribute is conceivable, 
to see poor humanity, who can not add a cubit to 
its stature, a day to its life, or control even any of 
the local physical forces which constantly threaten 
its very existence, masquerading and strutting 
about in its borrowed, or purchased, plumes. And 
yet, though I may not join in the festivities, I do 
not feel, as perhaps I should, " like the puddle that 
was proud of standing alone while the river 
rushed by." In my present frame of mind the 
celebration of events or commemorations by 
means of feasts and balls reminds me of the 
Saturnalia of ancient days, from which some of 
them differ only in degree; and as for a funeral, 
I can call to mind no savage rite among the many 
I have witnessed more humiliating to our vaunted 
enlightenment than a burial ordinance of the type 
I refer to. It seems clear that many of our rites 
and celebrations differ only in degree from those 
125 



(Bartien jHojSatc^ 



belonging to stages of civilization which we de- 
spise. Sartor resartus! Shorn of our conven- 
tional outer garb, what are we ? That is the ques- 
tion we should put to ourselves. Let us by all 
means do what we like and enjoy ourselves in any 
of the conventional ways we please ; but let us not 
arrogate to ourselves the pride of superiority be- 
cause our habits of convention differ a little from 
those of other classes and races. 

Talking of the weather recalls to my mind that 
some years ago by the conditions of a postal con- 
tract service with a great government, which shall 
be nameless, the contractor was held responsible 
for delays caused not only by failures or break- 
downs of machinery and matters of possible hu- 
man control, but also for stress of weather and 
dense fogs, in which all locomotion became im- 
possible. Of course, for adequate payment the 
risk of penalties arising from even uncontrollable 
causes might have been submitted to. But 
though the remuneration was less than bare the 
government remained immovable on the matter 
of human responsibility for the weather and " acts 
of God," and the obnoxious clause was not ex- 
126 



^uggejstionis 



punged until it was formally represented that 
however flattering it might be to the contractors 
that the powers of the Almighty should be attrib- 
uted to them, they must humbly decline to as- 
sume the responsibility of exercising such exalted 
functions. This argument actually severed a 
strand of official red tape ; but who of us, in any 
walk of life, is there who is not bound up in the 
red tape of convention? 

What, however, has red tape to do with garden- 
ing? To which question I may answer — a great 
deal ; since horticulture has at all times been and 
is now still to a great extent the slave of fashion 
and convention. 

Returning to my own little gardening pursuits, 
I have acquired a number of plants, tubers, and 
roots of the Flame Nasturtium, Tropceolum 
speciosum, which I am anxious to grow. The form 
in which it was supplied to me varied. One nurs- 
eryman sent me growing plants in pots, another 
fine, healthy-looking tubers as large as a small 
hen's egg, and a third supplied a lot of long, thin, 
white roots. The instructions for planting which 
I have read are still more numerous and diverse. 
127 



dBJarUen 0iomic^ 



The first of these is interesting, so I transcribe it 
for the benefit of my readers : 

" T. speciosum (Flame Nasturtium). 

" A Chilian climber. 

" Flowers June to September-October. 

" Best in light, deep loam, with the addition of 
peat, leaf soil, and sand. In summer a mulching 
of well-rotted manure is beneficial. Dislikes a 
scorching hot position — should be planted in a 
somewhat shaded place where there is plenty of 
moisture in the air, such as against bushes or 
hedges, with a west or northern aspect. Plant 
tubers in April or May — plants may be allowed to 
take care of themselves. If coddled too much are 
likely to be a failure, but so long as the soil is well 
drained and fairly good and the position partially 
shaded and not too cold, the plants will sooner or 
later establish themselves. 

" In the south it is almost impossible to estab- 
lish it exposed to the full rays of the sun. A 
quantity of roots were placed in holes at the foot 
of a spreading young yew-tree, the soil not being 
disturbed farther than was necessary for covering 
the roots. For a couple of years these did 
128 



^uggejsttonjs 



nothing, but in the third year a vivid splash of 
vermilion on one of the branches of the yew 
showed that the plants were thriving, and they 
have since garlanded the dark foliage of the yew 
with an opulence of color that yearly increases 
in extent. 

" Meanwhile, the plants which had been put in 
carefully selected situations and well looked after, 
perished." 

My first plants were put in nearly two years 
ago in accordance with these directions and have 
since not been disturbed. I shall possess my soul 
in patience for another year and then look out 
anxiously for a vivid splash on the yew and bushes 
under which the plants were placed. 

With the tubers and roots I tried to follow the 
directions given by Mrs. Earle, who, quoting a 
friend, says that holes should be prepared quite 
four feet deep and filled with leaf mold and light 
earth. The roots, we are then told, are to be 
planted one foot below the surface, so that they 
shall have two feet of loose soil to work down 
into. 

Now there is something wrong here, and the 
9 129 



(0atnett jHojsatc^ 



arithmetic is clearly at fault. I can not follow the 
directions in their entirety, for if I make a hole 
four feet deep and leave the roots two feet of loose 
soil to work down into they will be two feet under 
the surface instead of one; and if I plant them 
one foot under the surface they will have three 
feet of loose earth under them instead of two. 
Perhaps allowance is made in the calculation for 
the roots being a foot long, which mine are not, 
and the tubers are only about two inches. I there- 
fore solved the problem, especially as labor is a 
consideration with me, by making the holes three 
feet deep and placing the tubers so that they have 
one foot of soil above them and two beneath. 
They have been located in various likely shady 
spots, so I hope some of them will thrive. 

The other day I sawed a slice off one of my 
blocks of the fallen elm branch, to make a rustic 
table-top, and I had the curiosity to count the 
rings in the cross-section. There were ninety- 
four of them, besides a homogeneous core of about 
an inch diameter in the center. As each ring 
must signify a year's growth, I suppose, there- 
fore, the branch must be about a hundred years 
130 



^uggejstionjj 



old and the tree possibly older. I wonder if there 
are in any parts of our bodies some similar indi- 
cations of progressive age. The teeth, I am 
afraid, are very unreliable, nor do we go on grow- 
ing all our life in superimposed layers, and if we 
did the better half of humanity would not ex- 
hibit cross-sections to general inspection, but 
would doubtless polish and furbish the outer layer 
to make it look fresh and young. 

It has been foretold that in a certain number 
of generations, how many I do not know, the hu- 
man race will have no hair and no teeth, both be- 
coming atrophied from disuse and eventually, 
from hidden rudiments, like the coccyx, the ap- 
pendix, and the hairy points to our ears, vanish- 
ing altogether. 

If these modifications take place, which is quite 
possible, granted the unlimited time which evolu- 
tionary changes demand, and the human teeth re- 
tire before the invasion of chemical nourishment 
without waste, I think the probability has been 
lost sight of that the elaborate digestive and other 
organs designed for the assimilation of large 
masses of miscellaneous and chemically unpre- 
131 



da^artien piomit^ 



pared food, must fall into disuse and vanish also. 
The necessary corollary will be a wasp-like waist 
and the gradual but certain ruin of the corsetiere. 
Those who follow this calling — or should I say, 
pursue this industry? — if they are wise and far- 
seeing, will be careful to bring up their remote 
posterity to some other trade. This prudent ad- 
vice is offered gratis and in all friendliness to a 
deserving and, I believe, frequently unremuner- 
ated class of industrious artistes. 



132 



Draussen auf griiner Au 
Bliihen viel Blumchen blau 
Bliihen Vergissmeinnicht 
Bis man sie bricht; 
Aber dann welken sie, 
Nur meine Liebe nie ; 
■Wenn auch das Herze bricht 
Sie Welket nicht. 

Becker. 

Outside there, fresh as dew. 
Blooms many a flower blue, 
Blooms the forget-me-not 
Till plucked. Its lot 
Then is to fade and die. 
■With love it can not vie. 
E'en though all life is gone, 
Love still lives on. 



133 



CHAPTER XIII 
BIRDS AND PHILOSOPHY 



gai^^^ HE dear little turquoise forget-me- 
Wr»y^^ nots have gone, at least all those 
W^^^^ that were planted together in a large 
round bed, to make room for gerani- 
ums. They have been bedded away in snug 
rows to rest through the summer heat till they are 
ready to be planted out again in more conspicuous 
positions. A few of their brethren who inhabit 
shady corners have been left undisturbed, whilst 
their cousins, the water forget-me-nots, who live 
on the margin of " The Drain," are only just be- 
ginning to don their fine garments for the season 
and have not begun to flower yet. And when they 
do, how beautiful they are, and how they appeal 
to pleasant associations and reminiscences ! The 
flower is so unpretentious and yet of such a per- 
fect and pure color that it can not be overlooked 
or passed by unnoticed. 

135 



dDiarDen piomit^ 



The turquoise, like the forget-me-nots, is prized 
also for the same color, and the stone is supposed 
to fade, like the flower. The turquoise that fades, 
however, is the Egyptian variety, which is said to 
be composed of petrified bone. The true tur- 
quoise from Persia and Tibet, which is a differ- 
ent mineral, does not lose its color or become 
paler. 

Another attractive little flower which consoles 
me for the loss of the bed of forget-me-nots is the 
speedwell, or bird's-eye, as it is called in these 
parts. In the paddock and along a bank at the 
roadside not far from my gate there are large 
patches and masses densely packed with its vivid 
azure flowers, each one certainly looking very 
much like a pure blue eye. 

The white hawthorn has only just saved its 
reputation and its flowering before May is out, 
and the lilacs and Dutch honeysuckles are cov- 
ered with sweet-scented bloom-masses. Another 
shrub which fills the air with its perfume is the 
pale yellow azalea, of which there are a number 
of fine large old bushes in the garden. Those in 
the more exposed positions, however, are in poor- 
136 



OBirD^ anD ^^i^dojsopl^t 



er condition than usual, many of the most ad- 
vanced flower-buds having been injured by the 
late frosts. Some of the earlier rhododendrons 
are also in flower; but the guelder-rose is very 
late, fully a month behind last year. 

The country is beautiful in its luxuriant fresh 
green clothing, and even the vegetation at the 
roadside is not tarnished by dust. Many of the 
meadows are bright golden sheets of buttercups, 
and the abundant rain has made the fool's-parsley 
run riot. I find it lasts in water and looks well if 
large bunches are grouped together in a good- 
sized vase or jar. In a shady corner of the pad- 
dock the plants are of enormous size and density 
and are fully four feet high. 

Besides the forget-me-nots, the polyanthus, and 
most of the pansies, as space is deficient, have 
been put away; and the latter, still in vigorous 
growth owing to the generous moisture of the 
soil, continue flowering in a profusion of rich 
and gay colors. These rows of plants, which do 
not show a sign of somnolence, remind me of live- 
ly children who have been put into bed too early 
and can not go to sleep. 

137 



(Bavhm pio^aic^ 



The birds all seem very happy; but I expect 
they do not realize that there will not be any 
cherries for them. They usually have such an 
unlimited supply from several large trees that I 
fear it will be a bitter disappointment when they 
find no fruit, almost all the blossoms having "gone 
blind," owing to the cold weather during the first 
half of the month. The ground is now thickly 
strewn with the flower-stalks. It seems very hard 
that our beautiful songsters should have to sing 
in vain and be deprived of their most cherished 
" price of the orchestra." 

The starlings usually build in a greenhouse 
chimney and in the hollow of a very old mulberry 
stem. This year they have raised a brood in an old 
hothouse boiler-pipe, three of which pipes form a 
very stalwart tripod some eight or nine feet above 
the ground, and upon which I am growing three 
strong climbing roses. These are to be trained 
up the center through a triangle at the top, 
whence they can fall down and rampage at their 
own sweet will without fear of breaking down 
their support. It is not a sightly object at present 
and invariably calls forth inquiry and comment 
138 



iBirtus attD pii)ilo^op])v 



from my visitors. As it looks rather like the erec- 
tion of a pit-head, I call it the " Kent Colliery." 
My theory is that usually, when climbing roses 
have attained their best growth on a support on 
the open lawn, the support gives way and what 
might be an object of great beauty is spoilt at its 
best stage of development. My tripod will not 
collapse or topple over in a gale of wind, even with 
a ton of rose branches hanging down from it. It 
is no doubt an eyesore now; but I shall triumph 
over scoffers when it braves the elements smoth- 
ered in a heavy cataract of roses. 

But I have wandered away from the starlings. 
They have also laid eggs and are rearing a brood 
in a compartment of one of the pigeon-houses. 
As the pigeons are always fighting among them- 
selves and turn each other out of these compart- 
ments, I do not understand how they have come 
to let such intruders in. But they have, and one 
of the hostesses takes an occasional turn at sitting 
on the starling's eggs for her. It is evident, there- 
fore, that my pigeons, in spite of domestic differ- 
ences and brawls, are hospitable to strangers, like 
many human beings. 

139 



(BavUn pio^c^ 



A great many new-fledged linnets are leaving 
their nests in the shrubs and there seem to be 
more young robins about since the cat has dis- 
appeared. The wood-pigeon coos softly and the 
song of the blackbird and the thrush cause the 
surrounding atmosphere to vibrate in soothing 
pulsations. The dainty little wagtail darts about 
the lawn impelled by the rapid running motion 
of his little feet, and on the fields he follows the 
harrow in the same perky, fascinating way. 

I wonder if these birds suffer as we do from 
discontent, that human attribute which often 
brings upon its agent so much unrest and misery, 
though in reality it is the fount from which all ad- 
vancement and progress springs? Discontent is 
generally condemned, and yet without it the 
mainspring by which we always move onward 
would be wanting. There would be no improve- 
ment or reform if we were all content to remain 
as we are and were satisfied with our surround- 
ings, devoid of ambition. The restless dissatis- 
faction and desire for change are implanted in us 
to work our own advancement ; and the contented 
spirit, however much we may admire and envy 
140 



13irDjS anD l^l^ilojsopl^v 



it the peace and resignation it brings, is not a 
product of the selection of the fittest to lead us 
on to the goal of our destiny. 

All the same, there is little fortitude or heroism 
in taking every opportunity to air one's discon- 
tent openly when no special object of direct ad- 
vancement can be served thereby, especially when 
that discontent is less with one's self than with 
the circumstances in which one lives, caused, per- 
haps, or contributed to, by one's own short-sight- 
edness, selfishness, and folly. The discontent of 
those whose objects in life are confined to their 
own insatiable craving for pleasure outside their 
natural surroundings is not the useful and valu- 
able quality I speak of and must not be con- 
founded with it. 

It seems easy to say that the circumstances sur- 
rounding us may be brought about by our own 
folly, and so they may. But what is folly, and 
what is wisdom, absolute? Is there any real 
standard, not conditional or conventional, by 
means of which wisdom and folly can be meas- 
ured, defined, and separated from one another? 

Adherence to what is usually called principle 
141 



(^arDen jHojsaicjs 



can not always be wisdom, for circumstances may 
be found in which the rigid exercise of any given 
principle may be wrong, and merely the lesser of 
two evils. This being the case, it is clear the wise 
course is not always the " right " course, and here 
we are face to face with the important question: 
What is right and what is wrong? which I do not 
propose to attempt to answer, at all events for the 
present. 

There can be no doubt, at least, that ethics and 
morality are matters of convenience, and that the 
entire codes of manners, morals, and laws have 
been evolved on a utilitarian basis. The manners, 
morals, and laws of human communities often 
differ very widely from one another, thus adding 
proof to their local conventional origin and 
growth. Laws are of course merely the crystalli- 
zation of convenient and conventional methods 
which have by gradual progress been arrived at 
for the mutual protection of individuals and com- 
munities. If the rights of person and property 
were violable with impunity neither the one nor 
the other would be safe from destruction or free 
to work its own advancement. And if the mar- 
142 



'BittijS anD l^l^tlOjSopl^i? 



riage laws were relaxed the proper care and 
bringing up o£ the rising generation would at 
once be imperiled. 

Much might be said on this important subject, 
but I am not going to allow my remarks to de- 
velop into a lengthy essay here. 

An example of positive and absolute evil and 
immorality occurs to me, and there may be many 
others. It is the trade-unions, as many of them 
are administered at present, by whose regulations 
the standard of capacity is deliberately leveled 
down to the lowest grade instead of being im- 
pelled toward the highest excellence. Could any 
human suicidal organization work on lines less 
moral and less in accord with the priceless impulse 
of nature toward advancement by selection of the 
highest and the fittest? 



143 



The year of the rose is brief; 
From the first blade blown to the sheaf, 
From the thin green leaf to the gold, 
It has time to be sweet and grow old, 
To triumph and leave not a leaf. . . . 
Swinburne. 



10 145 




CHAPTER XIV 

ROSES AND PHILOLOGY 

'F not with sunshine from the central 
and chief orb of our solar system, 
June came in with the beneficent 
sunshine of peace after a painful and 
protracted war, and I do not doubt that the whole 
nation glowed as I did with the satisfaction of re- 
lief, the removal of a heavy oppressive cloud, and 
the prospect of reconciliation with a people with 
whom we had for so long been battling at such 
terrible loss and suffering on both sides. 

On the first of June I found a " May beetle," as 
the Germans call it, a cockchafer, in the gar- 
den, an insect I had not seen for many years. I 
had, however, very vivid recollections of it from a 
plague of cockchafers I had witnessed in Ger- 
many somewhere about the year i860. On that 
occasion such countless numbers appeared that 
the entire district was literally covered with them, 
147 



c^arnen jHojsafos 



and I remember going out into the woods and see- 
ing the foliage densely packed with them, in many 
cases two or three deep, so that the branches of 
the trees were bent down and also frequently 
broken by their weight. The little street boys 
used to eat the beetles. 

I once also witnessed, what I believe is an un- 
common occurrence, a storm of crickets. They 
were suddenly blown, like a squall, into the town 
in Ecuador, where I was residing, in dense masses 
and heaped against the bases of the walls like hail- 
drifts. They were carried into verandas and 
open doors and windows; and the houses, where 
they did considerable damage, were not entirely 
free from them for a month or more afterward. 
Walking in the streets, for some hours after the 
downpour, it was impossible to avoid scrunching 
crickets at every step. 

During the early part of the month the paddock 
looked very pretty with its patches of small blue- 
bells, purple orchids, speedwell, and a bright little 
vetch. I sowed some cowslip seed in the early 
spring and harebell the year before, but neither 
have come up. The latter graceful little flower I 
148 



Mo^t^ anD ^l^ilolog^ 



have strewn the seed of in various positions, but 
without success. There is none of it in the neigh- 
borhood and apparently it does not find this lo- 
caUty congenial. 

Notwithstanding the want of sun until the lat- 
ter half of the month, the shrubberies maintained 
a good appearance. The yellow azaleas, which 
had had many of their buds destroyed by the late 
frosts, seemed to get a new lease of life and 
bloomed profusely, whilst the foliage shrubs were 
further set off by the unusually excellent flower- 
ing of the guelder-rose and rhododendrons of 
varied hue — white, pale lilac, mauve, scarlet, and 
a deep purple mauve, which recalled to my mind 
the rich, full tone of the magnificent Bougainvillea 
spectabilis when in all the glory of its proper ele- 
ment. 

The roses are late this year, a Gloire de Dijon 
on the south wall of the house being the first. 
One day I counted on it one hundred and eighteen 
open and half -open flowers, apart from many more 
buds to follow. 

Reine Marie Henriette on the " Kent Colliery " 
has had some flowers of exquisite form and color, 
149 



dB^arDen jHojsafcjs 



but not many of them, owing to its extreme youth. 
It is a most beautiful rose. Others of surpassing 
beauty which have been flowering are Caroline 
Testout and White Lady. But among roses one 
is lost, and for my own part I really do not know 
whether I prefer these to others, such as Captain 
Christy, La France, Grace Darling, Marie van 
Houtte, Margaret Dickson, Kaiserin Augusta, 
Victoria L'Ideal, Marechal Niel, and many more 
of equally faultless tint and form. Among the 
dark ones, too, can such rich beauty as Reynold's 
Hole and La Rosiere, alias Prince Camille de 
Rohan, be surpassed? They are all flowering, 
along with many others, and each one, as one con- 
templates it, seems the best. 

The Spanish iris have been very fine, taller, and 
bearing much larger flowers than usual. 

All the summer flowers are coming on rapidly 
with the succession of plentiful rain and generous 
sunshine they have had and their vigorous growth 
has filled the beds to repletion. A flower I rather 
regret not having sown is Calliopsis, or Coreopsis. 
I do not know the derivation of these two names, 
but I take them to be equivalents and one a cor- 
150 



mm ant) ^^i^tlologt 



ruption of the other, forming an example of the 
interchangeable 1 and r which occurs so frequent- 
ly in many languages. A Chinaman always pro- 
nounces an r like an 1, and Isaac Taylor in his in- 
teresting work. The Alphabet, tells us that the 
Japanese r answers to the Chinese 1 and its sign 
has the same origin ; that in Egyptian, as in some 
other languages, no clear distinction existed be- 
tween r and 1, and that the primitive Semitic al- 
phabet probably only possessed one sign for both. 
In the edicts of Asoka the letters are inter- 
changed, " raja " in some copies being written 
" laja." In various countries, both east and west, 
I have noticed that 1 and n are also frequently in- 
terchanged, and I have sometimes heard such a 
well-known name as Lucknow pronounced Nuck- 
low. 

These facts once served as text for the follow- 
ing dedication : 

TO LOLA ON HER BIRTHDAY. 

(A philological analysis) 

Interchangeable letters philologists say 
Occur in most languages: therefore they may 
Not only be looked for in words, but as well 
In names, where they often get mixed up pell-mell. 



(BarDen pioMc^ 



The r and the 1, and the I and the n 
We know often stand for each other; so then, 
By the simplest of reasoning, who dare so bar 
The right to use v for an 1 or an r. 

If consonants thus can be handled so free, 

The rule for the vowels sure the same one must be. 

We may therefore prohibit all persons to say 

We are wrong when we write down an e for an a. 

Our principles settled, we'll now demonstrate 
And in order our story at once to narrate, 
We'll select a sweet name an Italian would know 
Is composed of two articles — la, also — lo. 

The masculine one perhaps first placed should be, 
But philology is not politeness, you see, 
And the name of the subject of this dissertation 
It is clear can not end with a male termination. 

Two sexes are therefore established and then, 
Being close to each other, like women and men. 
They, instead of endeav'ring to cut the connection 
Unite into monosyllabic affection. 

The student who's earnest and follows all this 
The drift of the argument never can miss ; 
For plainer nowhere can be shown than above. 
By reason and logic, that Lola is love. 

The warm weather makes one feel very slack 
and one can imagine the delight of realizing the 
152 



Mo^t^ and i^i^ilolog^ 



Italian " dolce far niente." I have read that there 
is a delicious Spanish proverb, which is a good 
equivalent, to the effect that — The ideal of life is 
never to work between meals. I have not come 
across or heard the original, which I suppose 
would run somewhat as follows: El ideal de la 
vida es de nunca trabajar entre comidas. Both 
these aphorisms are such as the idle or languid 
may cherish as refreshments in the dog-days. 

While on the subject of maxims, the German 
one which I realize in obverse and reverse, almost 
daily, more than any other, is Goethe's dictum: 
" Vor den Wissenden sich stellen, sicher ist's in 
alien Fallen," which, however, I find it rather 
difficult to render literally into English. The 
meaning of it is : " With wisdom there can be no 
misunderstanding." One certainly realizes con- 
stantly that with stupidity there can be, and that 
misunderstandings constantly arise from lack of 
knowledge, most discords being due to ignorance 
on one side or the other. Where full knowledge 
and complete wisdom exists there can be no room 
for misconception or misjudgment, and even a 
disagreement becomes merely an agreement to 
153 



(0at:Den jmo^aicjs 



differ. In dealing with or representing matters 
to the wise, one may at all events always feel safe ; 
whilst in treating with ignorance, both matter 
and motive are likely to be misunderstood. 
" Tout savoir ; c'est tout pardonner." 

But the French saying I like best and which 
recurs to my mind with the greatest force and 
frequency is : " Si jeunesse savait, si vieillesse 
pouvait !" How often does one not see this forci- 
bly illustrated ! And in one's maturer years how 
often is it not brought home to one to regret that 
the power no longer exists for the performance 
of v;hat once might perhaps easily have been 
achieved had only the requisite knowledge or 
discernment not been lacking ! 



154 



The light speaks wide and loud 
From deeps blown clean of cloud 
As though day's heart were proud 
And heaven's were glad. . . . 

Swinburne. 



155 




CHAPTER XV 

MIDSUMMER ROSES 

'N July the scene changes again and the 
colors of the garden kaleidoscope 
have rearranged themselves. In- 
stead of with the blooms of rhodo- 
dendron, azalea, and guelder-rose, the shrub- 
beries are now decked with tall foxgloves, del- 
phiniums, and an occasional lily in amongst the 
bushes, whilst the beds are radiant with old- 
fashioned sweet-williams, Canterbury bells, cam- 
panulas, and snapdragons, together with early 
gladioli, phlox, petunias, and verbenas. All the 
flowers have been extraordinarily large this year 
and have shown an unusual development. The 
Canterbury bells have been veritable good-sized 
bushes and the sweet-williams almost like groups 
of miniature trees with great, thick, strong stems. 
The verbenas are growing with unwonted lux- 
uriance and the carnations have masses of flowers 
upon them. 

157 



(Bavr^m pio^aic^ 



In place of the Gloire de Dijon and the Dutch 
honeysuckle on the house, the rich, warm colors 
of the crimson rambler and the Clematis Jack- 
manni are substituted in glorious profusion. I 
read the other day that the crimson rambler 
" does not thrive on a south wall." It would, 
however, be hard to find one growing more vig- 
orously or flowering more profusely than the one 
growing on the south wall of this house. Since 
it has been tended and manured two years ago it 
has each summer thrown up fresh shoots ten feet 
long and has been wreathed in dense masses of 
blossoms. 

The shrubberies really owe most of their bright- 
ness, however, to their being studded with roses 
growing between the shrubs and through them. 
Parts of the garden are almost dominated by this 
rose, the red damask (Gallica) I take it to be, 
and in some beds the red and white striped one, 
Rosa Mundi (?). The former seems almost inde- 
structible. It had virtually taken possession of 
portions of the shrubberies and was forcing such 
hardy shrubs as aucubas, berberis, and other 
things out of existence. I had it pulled up and 
158 



aptDjSummet Mom 



rooted out wholesale where it was too strong; 
but this seems to have done it no harm and it has 
sprung up again everywhere in fresher vigor than 
before. A lot of it has been planted among laurels 
in a newer shrubbery, where it seems to have 
established itself well. It is a most beautiful 
object and goes on adorning the somber shrubs 
with its brilliant red blooms, which continue to 
succeed one another longer than any other rose in 
the garden, being usually continuously covered 
with flowers the whole of July and part of August. 
At the end of January many of the roses got 
their leaves entirely shriveled up, as if they had 
been burnt, from a northeast gale, which lasted 
three days and nights, and I felt glad I had pro- 
tected the necks of the recently planted ones, 
which might otherwise have succumbed. As it 
turned out, I only lost one, a Duchesse de Caylus, 
and all the rest have flourished and flowered well. 
A Marechal Niel on a south porch was in bud in 
April. In addition to those already mentioned, I 
must especially also record the beauty of Maman 
Cochet, Moire, Baroness Rothschild, Duchess of 
Albany, and Duke of Wellington. 

159 



c^artien j^o^atcjs 



Where paths cross at right angles in the kitch- 
en-garden I have erected two quadruple sets of 
arches. One has at its four corners climbing 
Kaiserin Augusta Victoria, Perle des Jardins, 
Marechal Niel, and Beaute Lyonnaise, and the 
other climbing La France, Captain Christy, Mrs. 
W. J. Grant, and Waltham Climber. On another 
single arch I have planted Gruss an Teplitz and 
Marguerite Appert. They have all flowered and 
next year I hope I will make a good show. Perle 
des Jardins I thought particularly beautiful and a 
serious competitor with the Marechal, whose 
flower it resembles. 

At the end of the month the roses have finished 
flowering; but a second crop of Canterbury bells 
is coming on, seeing which I went patiently 
through the long job of snipping off all the dead 
flowers of the first crop, one by one. 

Three rows of sweet-peas I had cut down with 
shears to about half their height, trimming in also 
the sides, and they are now responding to the 
treatment with a fresh crop of flowers. The 
carnations have been most prolific, too, and the 
Antirrhinums equally so. 

1 60 




It Served as a Cradle for so many Attractive Objects. 



jEttijsummer Mom 



A water-hen has built a nest and filled it with 
eggs up in an ivy-clad tree-trunk overhanging 
" The Drain," and farther up, just above my 
boundary, two broods of wild duck are swim- 
ming about, adding further charm to this despised 
bit of water. 

Two years ago I planted one of the beauti- 
ful American brambles in various different posi- 
tions. All the plants withered and disappeared 
long since; but lately two of them have sprung 
up again in the moister sites chosen on the margin 
of the brook, as I think I must now in common 
justice call "The Drain," since it serves as a 
cradle for so many attractive objects. 

It is thus that we often eventually discover 
good in an unattractive and evil guise, which 
causes the reflection as to whether evil must not 
also have its uses in working toward the universal 
goal to which all things tend and unconsciously 
strive. Discontent is the source from which 
progress springs, and may not perhaps other bad 
qualities or attributes also have their uses ? May 
it not be, if we had only eyes to see and brains to 
discern clearly, that in envy, hatred, malice, and 
11 i6i 



c0arDen jHoj^aicjs 



all uncharitableness is enclosed some kernel which 
nurtures another germ of advancement? May 
not envy be the outcome of emulation and a de- 
sire for improvement, hatred of an aversion to 
evil, malice of a somewhat too pronounced faculty 
to assail the unsympathetic and discordant ? And 
may not uncharitableness arise from an over- 
strong sense of self-preservation? 

" Sweet are the uses of adversity," and profit- 
able perhaps also is the use of evil. There are 
many puzzles in life and this is one of them, 
though some day we shall no doubt unravel the 
web which at present obscures the precise manner 
in which certain evils work for good and perform 
a necessary function in " the great scheme." Of 
course it is clear enough that some evils, that is 
to say, violations of the laws of nature, bring 
their own direct consequences, destroying the 
individual for the benefit of the community, not 
only by the removal of an adverse and retarding 
influence, but also by a swifter redistribution of 
matter and force for vitalizing absorption into 
the more regular units of nature who do not in- 
fringe its laws or impede its forward march. 
162 



jmtDjSumttter Mo^t^ 



Another puzzle to me of a different kind has 
always been, not how an apple is got into a dump- 
ling, but how it is we are still taught that 
Pharaoh's host was drowned in the Red Sea in- 
stead of Lake Serbonis. We know, of course, 
that the Pharaoh of the Exodus, Menephtah II, 
did not perish himself with his host, as his body 
was found a few years ago at Dayr el Bahri, and 
may still be seen in Egypt in an excellent state of 
preservation. Milton, when he wrote Paradise 
Lost, about 1665, evidently knew where the 
Egyptian army must have been engulfed, for he 
refers to 

A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog 
Betwixt Damiata and Mount Cassius old, 
Where armies whole have sunk. . . . 

Of course he may have had in mind the de- 
struction of the invading Persian army of Artax- 
erxes ; but why is it that the mistranslation of the 
name Yam Souf into the Red Sea, instead of into 
its real meaning — the Sea of Weeds, or Reeds, 
by which name Lake Serbonis was known — was 
not set right in the revised translation of the 

Bible in 1884, ten years after Brugsch had pub- 
163 



dDiarDen jHo^saicjs 



lished his lucid exposition on the subject? The 
French Bible falls into our error ; but the German, 
I see, renders Yam Souf correctly into Schilfmeer. 
I commend to my readers the interesting study 
of Brugsch's Discourse on The Exodus and the 
Monuments, in intervals of repose snatched from 
gardening operations. 



164 



I am bored in the morning, bored in the 
afternoon, and bored in the evening. 

Modern Play. 



i6s 



CHAPTER XVI 
GARDENS AND LIFE 



g gH^^ HE most noticeable flowers I have in 
m^r^u -^^S^s* ^^^ the asters, geraniums, 
S Sfi^^P / petunias, stocks, carnations, and 
phloxes. The antirrhinums seem to 
be always present and give almost perpetual color 
to the beds. I have been striving for some time 
past to weed out the pale, washed-out colors, pre- 
serving only the rich ones with a few white and 
clean yellows. The scarlet gladioli and some of 
the other autumn-flowering ones have also added 
materially to the brightness. The Japanese anem- 
ones are announcing the approaching end of sum- 
mer by beginning to flower very early. 

The phloxes are very large and bountiful and 
the carnations have been bearing masses of flow- 
er-spikes of unusual size right up to the end of 
the month. There has been little sun and much 
moisture, so that watering has never been neces- 
167 



(BtarDen jHoisafc^ 



sary. The absence of sunlight and warmth has 
kept back the Canterbury bells and their second 
crop of flowers has not come out till nearly the 
end of the month, when it has been profuse, 
though the individual flowers have been small. 
The roses are just commencing to awake into 
bloom again, after their summer sleep. 

My hollyhocks from seed, sown this year, have 
for the most part done well. They have grown 
to a full height and flowered, with the exception 
of some planted in a bed near a walnut-tree. 
These at first throve wonderfully well and looked 
strong and healthy till they were about two feet 
high, when they began to dwindle and finally al- 
most died away altogether, whilst their fellows 
continued to flourish in a more congenial locality. 

One of my Lilimn Giganteiim blossomed its first 
year, sending up a strong stalk about five feet 
high, crowned with light, beautiful white trum- 
pets lined inside with delicate pale purple. I hope 
they will all do better next year. 

One of the Tropoeolums which I was waiting 
for has flowered already. It is one of the large 
tubers previously referred to, and turns out to be, 
i68 



(ia!attien)3 and Life 



not speciosum, which I ordered and wanted, but 
tuberosum, which I care for much less. I have a 
great mind to name the person who sold it me 
and took advantage of my ignorance. 

The moles have been terribly active, worse than 
I have known them before, and there is hardly a 
patch in the garden they have not furrowed. A 
number of them have been caught ; but they have 
damaged all the lawns and have completely spoilt 
several flower-beds. The season seems to have 
been particularly favorable to them, and the va- 
riety of drawbacks the gardener has to contend 
with never seems to end, and provides constant 
occupation. 

This is, however, an age of variety entertain- 
ment, in which the brains of most people, as 
Max Nordau so graphically points out, are dis- 
tracted sorely from staple thought and concen- 
tration. The growing competition for wealth, 
luxury, and increased comfort has reached an un- 
wholesome stage of development, and sooner or 
later I hope some reaction toward a simpler, 
staider life will set in. At present the turmoil of 
the race for supremacy, both individual and na- 
169 



c0art)en piomit^ 



tional, is most unsettling, and the human mind 
has but little repose for quiet contemplation, in- 
trospection, and growth in grace. That a garden 
is no doubt itself a variety entertainment I will 
not attempt to deny ; it is, however, a healthy and 
calming one, moles notwithstanding. But many 
people seemed discontented unless life generally 
presents itself to them as a perpetual variety en- 
tertainment, and have every appearance of con- 
sidering it hardly worth living immediately it 
ceases to be one. The lack of repose, like adver- 
tisement, is the bane of the age. 

I always try to discern some true meaning and 
ultimate moral trend in all social phenomena, and 
I think that perhaps even variety entertainments 
may serve some useful purpose, or at least be re- 
garded as having some important or instructive 
signification. 

Variety, or variation, as every horticulturist, 
every student of Darwin, and every breeder of 
animals knows, is the first necessary step toward 
selection and improvement of the species, and 
without it there could be no separation and se- 
lection, either humanly designed or naturally 
170 



(0arDen)S and Life 



cumulative, of the best or fittest, since all would 
be on a dead level, exactly alike., Imagine 
what the organic world would be if there had been 
no variation ! If we go far enough back it would 
never had have passed the simple protozoic stage. 
There would be no multiformity of species and so 
complex an organism as the human animal, or, 
indeed, any other animal or plant, would never 
have been developed. As discontent covers the 
mainspring actuating moral and material im- 
provement, so does variety or variation from type 
contain the whole essential condition which ren- 
ders advancement at all possible. It may thus 
easily be seen that the craving for variety has 
a most important biological significance and is 
perhaps part of the inherent natural craving 
tendency of all living forms to bring about that 
first indispensable condition out of which their 
improvement can take its birth, and without 
which they must remain doomed to everlasting 
stagnation. 

And yet, though the advance from protozoon to 
humanity has been so great, what vast and end- 
less cumulation of selected variation remains to 
171 



dD^arDen piomit^ 



be achieved in order to bring the sensory instru- 
ments to an adequate refinement and sensitive- 
ness to appreciate even phenomena already 
vaguely known, and to bring the brain into a con- 
dition of capacity to effectively command the ex- 
ercise of reason and the subordination of senti- 
ment and impulse into profitable bounds! And 
the further almost infinite advancement which is 
requisite before we can be in a position to appre- 
ciate and understand " the unknown " is so far off 
that we must leave it where it is, " behind the 
veil," among the hidden secrets of nature, which 
it is profitless for us even to try to speculate upon 
at present. 

Instead of indulging in the luxury of grief or 
hopelessness at our deficiencies, let us rather en- 
deavor, like true philosophers, while fulfilling our 
individual mission to the best of our lights, to get 
out of our brief span such enjoyments as come 
within our reach. Too many of these are missed 
in the vain pursuit of those amusements which 
George Cornewall Lewis considered render life 
intolerable, while most of us are to each other 
like " ships that pass in the night," and lose, often 
172 



(0art)en0 anti Life 



owing as much to the sway of convention as to 
the personal reserve, many opportunities of pleas- 
ant intercourse. Even where at first sight there 
may be a sufficient germ of mutual sympathy to 
engender intercommunication, an impassable bar- 
rier of convention often springs up, defying as- 
sault and effectually barring the desired coales- 
cence; and thus we go through our short spell 
of life dull and alone, where we might be cheer- 
fully and sociably entertained. 

Although life itself is no doubt eternal, its ac- 
companiments, phases, or manifestations are 
ephemeral, and even the best-established popular- 
ity fades like other tender blossoms. Absence 
of variety alone seems sufficient to account for 
this; for the human mind must move onward, 
steadfast only on the constant change necessary 
toward progression. Remarkable testimony to 
the truth of this view is presented by the fact that 
the public always endeavors to perpetuate for as 
long a period as possible their appreciation of ex- 
emplary deeds and conduct by the erection of 
memorials in stone and metal, which, perishable 
as they are, are still felt to be more enduring than 
173 



dDJarDen jHo^afcjs 



the ever-changing human mind. Feeling that we 
shall forget, " lest we forget " we are fain to con- 
trive mnemonics which shall attest the transient 
feebleness of our own memories and impressions 
and which shall certify to all beholders that the 
achievements thus commemorated must quickly 
wane and disappear in the onward rush. When 
I see great monuments, tombs, and statues I often 
wonder whether all their subjects would or do 
regard them as really complimentary, and not as 
standing evidence that their memories must other- 
wise rapidly pass away. 



174 



For wonderful indeed are all his works, 

Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 

Had in remembrance always with delight: 

But what created mind can comprehend 

Their number, or the wisdom infinite 

That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? 

Milton. 



175 




CHAPTER XVII 

SOME OLD-TIME FAVORITES 

WONDER how many thousand miles 
I have walked round my garden! I 
suppose, in any case, I must have 
traveled in it as far in a year as 
the distance many people traverse in a twelve- 
month's travel abroad. 

Lately I happened to light upon that most 
charming of garden books, Voyage autour de 
mon Jardin, which I had not read for many years, 
and I have been reading it again with the greatest 
interest and delight. It is a perfect storehouse of 
the natural-historic facts of garden life, love, and 
legend, all set forth in a pleasing and picturesque 
manner unequaled in any other book that I know 
of. The spirit of the author is shown sufficiently 
where, in contemplating the marvelous increase 
from a tiny seed of evening primrose into count- 
less and interminable generations of beautiful, 
12 177 



(0atDm jEojSaicisi 



sweet-scented plants, he says (I will translate for 
the benefit of the purely English reader, at the 
risk of spoiling the original) : " Ah ! I now under- 
stand the joy vouchsafed to Thine elect which I 
have sometimes smiled at ironically; that ineffa- 
ble joy of seeing Thee face to face. I understand 
it by the delight which I experience in the con- 
templation of the smallest of Thy works, hidden 
away in the greensward or secluded in the foliage. 
O Lord! when I give myself up to the con- 
templation of nature, it seems to me that Thou art 
no longer hidden from view but by a veil so 
transparent that the lightest breath of air 
would raise it. O Lord! what do those . . . 
people want who ask for miracles, and those 
other . . . people who relate them? Is there 
a single blade of grass which is not a miracle 
far above the mythologies of all times and of all 
nations? O Lord! does not the least of Thy 
insects speak to me more eloquently of Thy power 
than those ridiculous advocates who have the in- 
solence to defend Thee as a culprit and to discuss 
Thee in their folly and vacuity?" 

Talking on the life of insects and reflecting how 
178 



in their metamorphosis, first as an ugly larva, 
leading a lowly and obscure life; then as a pupa 
encased in a shroud and to all appearance lifeless ; 
and finally emerging from this sarcophagus 
clothed perhaps in the richest colors, with daz- 
zling wings which permit the image to raise itself 
aloft, above the earth where it has hitherto only 
crawled, our author says : " And this life of ours 
which we lead on the earth, is it really our per- 
fect state? That which we call death, is it really 
the end of life? Shall we not also have to take 
wing and soar up toward the sun, above the level 
of all the miseries and passions and wants of a 
primary state of existence?" 

Individual existence, as I have said, is but a 
transitory condition or phase of the eternal life 
of matter and force, which themselves may both 
be one, and yet in our weakness and folly we lay 
great store by our so-called possessions. My fas- 
cinating author, Alphonse Karr, says : " I remem- 
bered how small were my wants and desires ; the 
greatest, the surest, and the most independent 
of fortunes," and again : " What a strange thing 
is this possession of which men are so envious! 
179 



dBJattien a^o^atcjj 



When I possessed nothing, I had the forests and 
the meadows, the sea and the heavens with all 
their stars ; but ever since I have bought this old 
house and garden, I have nothing else. Posses- 
sion is a contract by which we renounce every- 
thing that is not enclosed within a definite lim- 
ited boundary. 

" There are moments when I ask myself 
whether perchance our minds may not be so 
turned that we call poverty that which is splendor 
and riches, and opulence that which is misery and 
nakedness." 

Most of us certainly evince but very little ap- 
preciation of the wealth and pleasure which might 
surround us if we only gave ourselves up to their 
assimilation. We look at most things in an ig- 
norant, distorted way, and it is difficult to say 
which of us are sane and reasonable and which 
are witless and irrational. " Dans toutes les 
grandes villes, il y a un hopital pour les insenses ; 
c'est que, en y renfermant quelques pauvres dia- 
bles sous !e nom de fous, on fait croire aux 
etrangers que ceux qui sont hors de cet hopital 
ne sont pas." 

i8o 



Among the distinguished residents in the shape 
of roses who have settled in my garden and 
adorned it most during the month of September 
were General Jacqueminot, Captain Hayward, Hein- 
rich Schultheis, Fisher Holmes, Camile Bernardin, 
Captain Christy, Tom Wood, Oscar Cordel, Dr. 
Andry, and the Dukes of Teck and Wellington. 
They were accompanied by La France and La 
Rosiere, whilst the following graceful and lovely 
ladies added further charm to the scene: The 
Duchesses de Morny and of Albany, Lady Helen 
Stewart, Kaiser in Augusta Victoria, Mrs. John 
Laing, Marie Baumann, Grace Darling, White Lady, 
Clara Watson, Caroline Testout, Marie van Houtte, 
Maman Cochet, and Madame Berard. These all dis- 
played their beauties satisfactorily in their second 
bloom of the year, the Tea and Noisette class es- 
specially producing small but well-shaped flowers. 
Bouquet D'Or and L'Ideal also contributed a fair 
amount of blossom. 

My bed of Salpiglossis, which I looked forward 

to with such high expectation, has been a great 

disappointment, and I have derived from it no 

pleasure but that of anticipation, and then I saw 

i8i 



(IB>arDen jHojsaios 



finally that the season was too far advanced to 
cherish any further illusions about it. So I had to 
root out the poor weakly plants, decayed for want 
of sun and from excess of moisture, and buried 
my hopes in the earth with the wallflowers which 
shortly afterward occupied the ground. 

The roses went a long way to assuage my grief 
over the failure of the Salpiglossis; but even in re- 
gard to those, I reflected in my bitterness with 
Grant Allen that after all, for all the poets have 
said and sung, the rose itself is strictly utilitarian 
and does not exist purely for our delectation. 
" You help me, and I will help you," it says to the 
butterfly; "and it keeps the sternest possible 
debtor and creditor account with all its benefac- 
tors." The previous summer, which was hot and 
dry, when I had not aspired to a whole bed of 
Salpiglossis, those I had in various positions throve 
well and bore magnificent blossoms of the most 
gorgeous colors. 

The sweet-peas, which were sown in October 

and were cut down in July, are still flowering 

freely, and some of those sown in the spring and 

cut down in August promise to go on producing 

182 



bloom for a long time yet. I have been much 
pleased with the excellent results of pruning these 
beautiful plants. When by plucking the flowers 
they can no longer be kept in check and form seed- 
pods freely, I cut them down with shears to about 
eighteen inches to two feet from the ground, clip- 
ping off also all the side shoots and pods below 
that level. With the administration of water and 
a little liquid manure they then come on again 
and the new growth flowers almost as vigorously 
as before. 

The large pink mallow has been quite a feature 
in the garden and has been covered with masses 
of flowers. The moist season seems to have 
suited it, though many of the roses have suffered 
from mildew. I have applied the remedy so 
strongly recommended by Dean Hole, namely, 
soot, and many of the bushes, therefore, are very 
unsightly and unapproachable. 

The second crop of flowers is still on the Can- 
terbury bells and a few foxgloves have strug- 
gled into bloom again, whilst a number of lilies, 
chiefly auratnm and speciosicm, show their beauti- 
ful heads through the shrubs. 
183 



(0arDen 0iomic^ 



Toward the end of the month some of the tall- 
est dahlias got their heads nipped by the frost. 
The season has been most unfavorable to them, 
and owing to lack of heat they developed too late 
to produce such fine flowers as they have done 
in more congenial conditions. Still, /, W. Wilkin- 
son, Night, Exquisite, TJie Prince of Yellows, and 
Red Rover gave a good account of themselves. 
The last of these I have grown two successive 
years when the conditions of moisture and tem- 
perature have been entirely different, and it has 
shown itself to be not only the handsomest but 
also the hardiest of all the cactus tribe I have had. 
Its habit is all that can be required of a dahlia. 
The plant is tall, strong, and loosely constructed, 
and its magnificent flowers protrude well out of 
the foliage on long, tough stalks, so that the in- 
dividual blooms and the plant as a whole are most 
gorgeous and attractive objects. 

The Delphiniums which were cut down have 
grown up again and are flowering; but they evi- 
dently now begin to realize that spring has not 
come yet and their colors are but a poor imitation 
of their real summer dress. 
184 



Some of the anemones also seem to have mis- 
taken the season and have burst into bloom. Al- 
phonse Karr relates how this flower was orig- 
inally brought to France from India, more than 
two centuries ago, by a Monsieur Bachelier, who 
declined for ten years to distribute it. But his 
selfish design was frustrated by a magistrate who 
visited him in his robes of office, which he trailed 
over some of the precious plants while in seed, 
carrying away some of the seeds which attached 
themselves to the wool of his garment. 



185 



They who see but one in alJ the changing manifoldness of this 
universe, unto them belongs Eternal Truth, unto none else, unt- 
none else. 



187 




CHAPTER XVIII 

AUTUMNAL FORECAST 

ALWAYS know when a woman has 
been in my dressing-room by the 
slope of the mirror, and I also know 
when a member of the same capti- 
vating sex has been denuding the garden of flow- 
ers. In October this would not be so very diffi- 
cult of accomplishment were it not that in addi- 
tion to roses there are still quantities of sweet- 
peas with plenty of buds to follow. 

The Clematis Duchess of Albany has a quantity 
of flowers on it and has shown a wonderful growth 
and development; but in my view this is worthy 
of a better cause and I can not care for the plant, 
notwithstanding the glowing terms in which I 
sometimes see it described in catalogues. I find 
I am unable to evoke any emotion in its behalf, 
which perhaps is not surprising when I confess 
to holding the opinion that the seat of the emo- 
tions is below the diaphragm, whatever senti- 
189 



(Bartien pio^aic^ 



mentalists may have asserted to the contrary and 
however much they may talk about the heart. 
It is a trite saying that a man's heart is in his 
stomach ; but there is much more truth in it than 
those who say it, thinking only of man's " gor- 
mandize," imagine. Where, I would ask, in a 
healthy subject, are such emotions as love, affec- 
tion, disappointment, depression, and sorrow felt? 
And where is the sensation when the "heart 
sinks " ? Not above the diaphragm, though ex- 
citing emotions like anger, hatred, and their fel- 
lows may accelerate the action of the heart. I 
am afraid " the heart " is often only a poetic 
euphemism for the stomach, and this is perhaps 
most strongly evidenced in the French expression 
" mal au ccEur." 

This dissertation on anatomy reminds me of the 
boy's answer on being asked to describe the hu- 
man body : " The human body consists of three 
parts, the head, the thorax, and the abdomen. The 
head contains the brain; the thorax contains the 
heart and the lungs, and the abdomen contains 
the vowels, of which there are five, a, e, i, o, and 
u, and sometimes w and y." 
190 



autumnal foumt 



How very nearly accurate is the boy's defini- 
tion of truth as an attitude of the mind in which 
we beheve " what we know to be untrue," instead 
of " what we do not know to be true." Where 
knowledge comes in at the door, faith flies out 
at the window. 

In many ways, with all our boasted knowledge 
and ripe experience, we still behave with the sim- 
plicity of childhood. Why, else, do we pay the 
doctor when we are ill, instead of when we are 
well, suspending his fees, as the Chinese are said 
to do, so long as our health fails? 

A favorite author of mine has it that a sure test 
of youth is the ability to eat a boggy bun just be- 
fore a meal, and no doubt it is an excellent proof 
of juvenility. But a surer and more general test, 
I notice, is the cocksureness of youth. Doubts 
only come thick with the ashes, when the beau- 
tiful fire of hope and confidence is burning low, 
and when our future looms behind us, when " cold 
wisdom judges severely all that it can no longer 
do, calls loss of appetite sobriety, the stagnation 
of the blood the return of reason, and envious im- 
potence the disdain of what is futile." I always 
191 



d^artien pio^ait^ 



think when I see young people exhibiting failings 
inherent in youth that they are after all only 
suffering from one of the temporary maladies 
which time must cure, and from a malady, more- 
over, which many of us would like to enjoy. 

Life is a wonderful thing, whether in youth or 
in age, in its earliest protoplasmic dawn or in the 
zenith of its development in the lord of the ani- 
mal kingdom. But what is life and what is the 
test of life ? The test of life is, I imagine, gener- 
ally acknowledged to be the capability of response 
to stimulus. That, however, being the case, Pro- 
fessor Bose has shown conclusively that living 
response in all its varied manifestations is ex- 
hibited by what is known as the inorganic as well 
as by the organic. He demonstrates in a series 
of patient and convincing experiments that metals 
betray evidences of response precisely similar to 
those which are accepted in the organic as the 
unfailing testimony of life; that the response in 
metals may be stimulated and repressed by the 
administration of exciting or depressing drugs, 
and that there is no break of continuity in the 
essential condition of life between the inorganic 
192 



autumnal iJforecajst 



and the organic. Both, under varied conditions, 
may live or fade or die, and their death may be 
encompassed by either of the causes, over-excite- 
ment, over-fatigue, or excessive depression. The 
world of matter is thus shown not to be swayed 
by an unknown and mystic force called vitality, 
but in its stead to be dominated by physical laws 
which know no change and whose wonderful 
workings we should make it our duty and interest 
to try to fathom and understand. What a marvel- 
ous bridge does this new revelation construct, 
connecting the inorganic world with the organic, 
demonstrating further the unity of all nature and 
the universal, equal, and unfailing operation of its 
laws ! Would any ordinary person hitherto have 
thought it possible that a sheet of zinc or copper 
could feel and respond to stimulating or depress- 
ing influences, with evidences of excitement, 
fatigue, and prostration precisely similar to those 
exhibited by organic matter? The very terms 
organic and inorganic seem doomed to lose their 
significance since the sharp dividing line between 
them has been erased. 
Thus does knowledge, as the result of patient 
13 193 



(0artien jHojsaicjs 



and persevering research, progress; and where 
will it eventually lead us to, as our brains become 
more and more familiar with the simple explana- 
tion, by the working of universal natural law, of 
what we now regard as mystery? There is no 
standing still, and the only repose in nature is 
that of study, constant, relentless, and everlasting 
motion onward, calm, unerring, unpitying, and in- 
exorable. 

Of what significance, in all this stupendous 
grandeur, can the individual be except to himself 
as a transitory atom in infinity? 

George Eliot said : " Consequences are unpity- 
ing," and so they are and must be since they are 
the inexorable sequence of causes governed by 
the immutable laws of nature which recognize no 
possibility of deviation. These same immutable 
laws are the force which has infallibly brought 
about and guided all development up to its highest 
form in the structure and working of the human 
brain ; and in this brain perhaps the most wonder- 
ful phase of operations is unconscious cerebration, 
when the brain works by itself and without any 
deliberate or active exercise of will or concen- 
194 



autumnal Jforecajst 



tration power to stimulate it to perform its 
functions. 

I find now that it is an extraordinarily reliable 
calculating machine, and when I entrust prob- 
lems to it, which I can not solve by the exercise 
of thought and will at the moment, it works them 
out and gives me the solution of its own accord, 
after an interval in which I have not bestowed a 
moment's conscious thought upon the subject in 
hand. In youth the difficulty usually seems to be 
to sustain the effort of will necessary to promote 
concentration. In mature age neither effort nor 
concentration is required, as the machine has 
worn down its bearings and runs smoothly with- 
out constant watching. This, at least, is my in- 
dividual experience; but I am quite prepared to 
admit it may not be universal, or even general, 
and may vary with every different constitution 
and temperament. 

I wish I knew what I ought to do to my Lilium 
Giganteum; whether anything should be done to 
those that have not flowered, or whether the one 
which has flowered should be disturbed and the 
new offsets, which should be found clustered 
195 



dBiartien jEoisaicis 



round the root, taken up and replanted, as Miss 
Jekyll seems to indicate. 

The goldenrod has been very showy in the gar- 
den and is a very handsome and graceful flower, 
most useful for cutting. 

The azalea foliage is resplendent and many 
other leaves and berries betray the rapid advance 
of autumn. 

Having been in Scotland lately, I brought back 
some ferns and plants of common heather, white 
heather, and bell heather, which I have had plant- 
ed with a little of their own native peat in my 
apology for a rockery, where I hope they may 
thrive, although the conditions are so different 
from those by which they have hitherto been sur- 
rounded. In my host's garden in North Britain 
everything, except perhaps the roses, seemed to 
luxuriate in the rich, moist soil which rested upon 
a substratum of pure peat. How I wished I could 
transfer a whole trainload of it to my garden! 
When one jumped upon the garden path the oil 
vibrated for some distance round over its opulent 
and elastic bed. 



196 



Las hojas del arbol caidas 
Juguetes del viento son. 
Las ilusiones perdidas 
Ay! son hojas desprendidas 
Del arbol del corazon." 

The leaves that fall from the trees 
Gay sport of the winds soon are, 
And illusions once lost 
Are the leaves that are tossed 
From the tree of the heart afar. 



197 




CHAPTER XIX 

FALLING LEAVES 

'F there were any doubts or illusions 
about it before, there can be no un- 
certainty now that autumn is ad- 
vancing with rapid strides. The gar- 
den is strewn with dead leaves, all in their turn, 
and all efforts to keep the lawns tidy are unavail- 
ing, for ten minutes after they are swept showers 
of leaves bestrew them again. There are dead 
leaves and dead leaves, however, some being full 
of crisp brightness and activity, even though life 
has gone from them, whilst others look dark, dull, 
and sodden in their unlovely decay. The large 
white-heart cherry covers the ground with beauti- 
ful golden yellow. The beech and the elm set the 
lawn alive with crisp, dancing fairies, which skip, 
frisk, and circle as they romp all over its surface. 
But the ash and the walnut foreshadow dank 
desolation. Their leaves lie flat, helpless, and 
199 



dBiartien pioMc^ 



heavy, heaped upon one another, and irresponsive 
to the kindly breezes which vainly seek to lure 
them into a final frolic. The walnut leaves pre- 
sent a horrible, black, and loathsome spectacle, 
like death and dissolution in their ugliest form. 

Still, there is, or should be, nothing hopeless 
in the fall of the leaves, when one reflects that in 
detaching themselves from the twigs they are 
only making way for the fresh verdure which is 
to follow in the spring and the swelling of whose 
buds really loosens the hold of the old leaves, just 
as the new generation in the human community 
forces the older, worn out, and less adaptable 
members into the background. " Nothing per- 
ishes in order that it may cease to exist, but so 
that something else may exist in its stead." 

The mildness of the weather seems to have de- 
veloped the leaf -buds earlier than usual and these 
in their turn have forced off the old leaves. In the 
third week in November there were three nights 
of frost, up to the time when flowers were still in 
fair supply in the garden. There were antirrhinum, 
pinks, dahlias, roses, violets, chrysanthemums, 
some anemones, and belated pansies and larkspur. 

200 



iJfalUng Heater 



The last roses which really opened their petals 
were picked about the 15th, with the exception of 
a few " Gloire de Dijon," still to be seen on the 
south wall of the house, on the last day of the 
month. 

The cherry and walnut shed their leaves before 
the mulberry, which did not, in its usual way, lead 
the van. 

The general mild temperature and moisture of 
the season have brought up the early Gladioluses, 
the Ixias, and the Spanish Irises, all of which I am 
leaving in the ground to face the winter under 
the protection of a top-dressing of manure and 
straw. Some of the laurels and rhododendrons 
have thrown out new leaves, and the leaf-buds of 
the beech, lilac, and honeysuckle are much more 
advanced than they ought to be. The hedges 
about here are sprouting, and I have come across 
several patches of hawthorn clothed at the end 
of November with fresh green as in early spring. 
They surely must have mistaken the season, like 
one who wakes up soon after he has fallen asleep, 
thinking the dawn is approaching. 

Among the flowers of the month I was almost 
201 



dBiartien jHojsaicjs 



forgetting again to enumerate the one I am most 
proud of, the sweet-peas, which right up to the 
frost continued their grateful supply of gay and 
fragrant flowers. I do not count upon being able 
to keep them so late again, and attribute my suc- 
cess this year to the constant moisture and ab- 
sence of strong sun throughout the summer. They 
have behaved most heroically, for I consider sus- 
tained effort to be the highest form of heroism. 

How often, however, is real heroism misunder- 
stood and disregarded, while its less solid rela- 
tions, dash and pluck, are lauded and rewarded. 
There is often greater heroism to be found in pri- 
vate life than on the battle-field. If, as I am 
afraid sometimes occurs, a brave deed is done with 
the thought of self-glorification, I do not call it 
heroic, though it may involve pluck in a high de- 
gree, for to my mind heroism is above all self-sac- 
rifice and thought for the welfare of others, and 
its sublimest height is reached where the sacrifice 
is made not in the excitement of the moment at 
the risk of life, but in the calm certainty of death 
without reward, like Jim Bludso, of whom Colo- 
nel John Hay said: 

202 



falling ttaU^ 



He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing, 
And went for it thar and then ; 

And Christ ain't agoing to be too hard 
On a man that died for men. 

The truest and greatest heroes in life always 
seem to me the human omnibus-horses who go 
about their hard, toiling work day after day, with 
all the energy and good-will they can command, 
uncomplaining and unrewarded, even to the last, 
when they are worn out and the end comes. 

There is said to be a pretty custom in Japan, 
and I hope it is no fiction, that every year a selec- 
tion is made in various districts of the girl who 
has most distinguished herself in the practise of 
homely virtue and domestic abnegation, and the 
unsuspecting and modest heroine is then honored 
and requited. 

In the present time and with us, self-advertise- 
ment is the prevailing custom, and publicity and 
notoriety-seeking are the bane of the age. Ad- 
vertisement pervades all classes and all localities. 
Neither the private life of the individual nor the 
sanctity of the domestic hearth are free from it. 
The most powerful monarch, the most prominent 
203 



dDiarDen jHojsatcjs 



statesman, the greatest general, the most eminent 
man of science or letters are as dependent for their 
status on advertisement as are soap, pills, beer, 
or tobacco ; and when the scale of advertisement 
is reduced, a falling o£E in popular estimation takes 
place in all cases alike, with the concomitant loss 
of influence over the public mind and pocket, 
an influence which is as necessary to successful 
statesmanship as to the prosperity of commercial 
enterprise. There seems to be less and less pri- 
vate life, no repose, no " recueillement." Society 
papers invade the sacred seclusion of the home 
and lay bare to the public gaze every confidential 
and personal detail of the life, actions, and occu- 
pations of their all too willing victims, who are 
portrayed in every conceivable garb. They may 
be seen in the public prints in their houses, in their 
gardens, and in their private studies and boudoirs ; 
they may be seen engaged in the serious avoca- 
tions of life ; on their way to church, performing 
acts of charity, or at play. They may be seen 
reading, writing, shooting, bicycling, motoring, 
riding, or driving; toying with their dogs and 
horses, posed in graceful attitudes with their 
204 



falling Leatejs 



children, carrying out scientific demonstrations 
surrounded by physical or chemical apparatus, or 
executing some elaborate work of art. 

It may serve a useful purpose to advertise 
births, deaths, and marriages; but the publica- 
tion of lists of guests and the presents each one 
contributes can hardly be regarded as anything 
but arch-snobbery. 

The only way I can discern to fit the craze for 
notoriety and advertisement into the economy of 
nature is to regard the almost fortuitous living of 
a life of continuous public exposure, less to one- 
self and more to the community, as a kind of 
necessary training of the individual to accustom 
himself to self-sacrifice in order that he may be- 
come the more fitted to act his part in the promo- 
tion of the interests and welfare of the race as a 
whole. 

Having expressed the present state of my senti- 
ments on advertisement, I will return to the gar- 
den. There is rather a dry sandy bed, sheltered 
from the north by a hedge, in which nothing has 
thriven very well. I have prepared the soil and 
have planted it with mixed Irises, which, I hope, 

205 



dD'arnen pio^aic^ 



may do well and produce a succession of their 
lovely flowers. The ones I have put in are /. angli- 
ca, Uorentina, pumila, data, ochroleuca, pavonia major, 
per sic a, and stylosa. 

The temptation became so strong that I have 
been unable to leave the Lilium giganteum undis- 
turbed. The bulbs and roots of the one that flow- 
ered look healthy, but there are no decided off- 
sets strong enough for separation. One of those 
which have not flowered was also examined, and 
as the bulb seemed fresh and vigorous it was cov- 
ered up again. 



206 



Yo que he visto mis flores marchitarse 

Al soplo abrasador del aquilon, 
Y mis sueSos de dicha evaporarse, 

Y morir en mi pecho la ilusi6n. 

Torres Caicedo. 

I who have witnessed my flowers fade away 
At the burning breath of the cruel storm, 

And my dreams of bliss destroyed in a day, 
And illusions torn out from my breast still warm. 



207 



m 



CHAPTER XX 

THE GARDEN IN WINTER 

HE winter has really come at length 
and bud and bloom are finally 
checked by the cold north wind. As 
if, however, to temper the withering 
breath of the weather, a beautiful soft and thick 
mantle of snow has been thrown over the earth, 
covering undulation and plain, tree and herb, with 
its fresh, white purity. It seems to me impossible 
to view without emotion the loveliness of the 
vegetation upon the first good fall of snow, and I 
feel thankful that in our country it never lies long 
enough to allow this feeling to become habitual 
and to lose the freshness and force with which 
it periodically recurs. 

The trees, and especially the great elm, are once 

more exhibiting their beautiful tracery upon the 

sky, and the famished birds again approach nearer 

to the house in the hope of finding something 

14 209 



dBiarDen jHojsatcjs 



more than the berries, which are the only food 
now left to them. Nor shall they be disappointed, 
for besides a matutinal meal of crumbs, are there 
not a number of warmth-producing tallow can- 
dles and coconuts waiting in readiness to be hung 
up in the trees for their Christmas delectation ? 

There are virtually no more flowers but the yel- 
low jasmine, and yet on the 8th of December I 
picked a good bunch of belated, half-open rose- 
buds, which look quite nice and refreshed in the 
warmth of the house, in water. 

A terrible tragedy occurred in the first days of 
frost. A hungry robin forced his way through 
the meshes of the garden aviary in which lives a 
magpie who recently lost her mate. The poor 
robin in his search for food little thought what 
a dangerous expedition he had embarked upon; 
but the result of his rashness was that he was 
killed and eaten by his host! 

The elms and the oaks parted with their leaves 
very slowly and unwillingly, in the same way that 
we gradually and reluctantly give up our illusions 
and as the winter of our life approaches find our- 
selves stripped of all the beautiful fancy foliage 

2IO 



Ci^e (BatDen in Winter 



which in our earlier seasons hung about us and 
was swayed to and fro by every breath of heaven, 
reflecting each ray of sunshine. 

Happily, however, the illusions which were 
once realities and objects of ardent faith still 
linger in our bared branches in the glittering frost 
of poetry, and even though we may no longer be 
able to subscribe to the articles of faith or to ac- 
cept the history of the Jews as the only infallible 
and sacred guides for our lives and conduct, we 
can still look upon the teachings of religion as the 
sublimest of all poetic conceptions and as the 
most elevating power for good over the imagina- 
tions of the human mind. 

Is it possible to conceive a happier state than 
that of being firmly convinced of the reality of 
conditions which, although undemonstrated and 
imaginary, transcend the best and most delightful 
experiences of our lives? Can any belief be more 
blissful and consoling, in the midst of all the ills 
we are heirs to, than that we shall live again, and 
forever, as ourselves, preserving conscious indi- 
viduality, in a glorified state, among surroundings 
of perfect harmony, joy, and peace? Can any 

211 



(BJarDen piomic^ 



promise be more satisfactory and reassuring than 
that in our Father's house are many mansions 
and that we shall occupy one of them? And can 
any trust, gratitude, and love be greater than that 
which we feel as children for the supreme wis- 
dom, power, tenderness, and benevolence of a 
Father? 

Oh, the poetry of it all is too exquisite! And 
truly such a state of mind with its beneficent in- 
fluence must be worth striving for as the acme 
of all that is desirable, even, perhaps, at the ex- 
pense of strictly demonstrated truth. If we can 
instil these exalted conceptions and bring about 
their acceptance as truth, refining in life and com- 
forting in death, should we not reverence and 
support the great organizations which have un- 
dertaken the performance of so excellent a task? 
And if we can abstract our minds from the ameni- 
ties and troubles of life into a higher atmosphere 
of delectable, soothing poetry, as many of us can 
do by careful and persevering training, is it not 
worth doing in order to attain a continuation of 
the happy frame of mind of the child who dwells 
in an entrancing fairy world? 

212 



Ci^e dDiarDen in Winttt 



As we part with the illusions of our youth, so 
also do some of us find that we let go the illusions 
once cherished as to the positive foundation of 
the beliefs and dogmas of religion. In their place, 
however, we may have gained a more vivid sense 
and appreciation of the beauty and sublimity of 
its poetry; of the life and teachings of a moralist 
like Rabbi Joshua, etherealized in the expositions 
of the church which is founded upon his benevo- 
lent altruism; or of the pure pity and sympathy 
for human frailty and suffering which led Sid- 
dharta to the ascetic life and self-denying philoso- 
phy which have chastened the moral standard of 
countless millions of human beings for nearly 
twenty-five centuries past. 

A poor old woman who came to me a long time 
ago in her distress at being given notice to quit 
her humble abode in default of the rent, expressed 
a reflection which has lived in my mind ever since 
as a beautiful specimen of the poetry of religion. 
"We are all tenants at will," she said, and she 
found consolation in this universal and humble 
conception before the Supreme Author of all 
being. 

213 



(Biartien jEojsafcjs 



There is to me no poetry so elevating and 
soothing as some of the hymns, and I class in the 
same category such beautiful compositions as, for 
instance, the anthem written by Mr. Benson on 
our late lamented Queen : 

She hath her heart's desire I 

She hath her joy ! 
Joy that no time can tire, 

No care destroy. . . . 

And, to give another instance, such lines as were 
written by his mother to the late Lord Dufferin, 
with the presentation of a lamp, on his twenty- 
first birthday: 

At a most solemn pause we stand, 

From this day forth, for evermore, 
The weak but loving human hand 

Must cease to guide thee as of yore. 
Then, as thro' life thy footsteps stray 

And earthly beacons dimly shine, 
" Let there be light " upon thy way 

And holier guidance far than mine ! 
" Let there be light " in thy clear soul, 

When passion tempts and doubts assail 
When grief's dark tempests o'er thee roll, 

"Let there be light" that shall not fail! 
214 



Ci^e (^athm in Winter 



So Angel guarded, may'st thou tread 

The narrow path which few may find 
And at the end look back, nor dread 

To count the vanished years behind I 
And pray that she, whose hand doth trace 

This heart-warm prayer — when life is past — 
Miay see and know thy blessed face, 

In God's own glorious light at last. 

I have sometimes questioned to myself whether 
it is right to place before the undeveloped mind 
subject-matter which is and must remain un- 
demonstrated and unproved, as the most solemn 
facts which can ever be presented to it, and I 
have felt that a heavy responsibility must be in- 
curred in doing so. I have reflected whether it 
might not be better rather to train the mind into 
an appreciation of the poetical beauties of re- 
ligion, as the highest ideal and the goal for the 
purest aspirations of the most refined tempera- 
ments, and as such to be held always before us 
and striven for with all the earnestness we can 
command. In such a case there would at least 
be no room for the revulsion of feeling, loss 
of restraint, and possible despair which is apt 
to ensue when the hitherto revered idols are 
215 



ctDiartien pio^aic^ 



broken by the force of logical and scientific 
education. 

I have arrived once more at the time of year 
when I began to pen these Mosaics. Vegetation 
is now quiescent and we must await the glories of 
new life in the spring. I will end the contempla- 
tions into which I have been led with a hymn 
which has haunted me with its beautiful con- 
ceptions for many years past and which returns 
to my thoughts with renewed force, as time goes 
on, again and again. It was given to me by an 
old friend who knew it by heart and told me it 
was composed by Horace Smith, entitled: 

HYMN TO THE FLOWERS 

Day stars ! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle 

From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation, 
And dewdrops on her lonely altars sprinkle 
As a libation. 

Ye matin worshipers! who bending lowly 

Before the uprisen sun — God's lidless eye — 
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy 
Incense on high. 



2l6 



Cl^e ctDfatDm in Witxttt 



Ye bright mosaics 1 that with storied beauty 

The floors of Nature's temple tessellate, 
What numerous emblems of instructive duty 
Your forms create 1 

V, 
'Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that 

swingeth 

And tolls its perfume on the passing air 

Makes sabbath in the fields and ever ringeth 

A call to prayer. 

Not to the domes v^here crumbling arch and column 

Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, 
But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, 
Which God hath planned. 

To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder. 

Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply; 
Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, 
Its dome the sky. 

There as in solitude and shade I wander 

Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod. 
Awed by the silence, reverently ponder 
The ways of God. 

Your voiceless lips, O flowers I are living preachers, 

Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book. 
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers 
In loneliest nook. 
217 



dB^artien jHoisatcjJ 



Floral apostles f that in dewy splendor 

" Weep without woe and blush without a crime," 
Oh, may I deeply learn and ne'er surrender 
Your love sublime. 

Thou wert not, Solomon, in all thy glory, 

Arrayed, the lilies cry, in robes like ours. 
How^ vain your grandeur 1 Ah ! how transitory 
Are human flowers ! 

In the sweet-scented pictures, heavenly artist, 
With which Thou paintedst Nature's wide-spread 
hall, 
What a delightful lesson Thou impartedst 
Of love to all. 

Not useless are ye. Flowers, though made for 
pleasure, 
Blooming o'er field and wave, by day and night, 
From every source your sanction bids me treasure 
Harmless delight. 

Ephemeral Sages ! What instructors hoary 

For such a world of thought could furnish scope, 
Each fading calyx a memento mori 
And ground of hope. 

Posthumous Glories ! Angel-like collection I 

Upraised from seed or bulb interred in earth, 
Ye are to me a type of resurrection 
And second birth. 
2l8 



Ci^e (BiarDen in Winttt 

Were I in churchless solitudes remaining, 

Far from all voice of teachers and divines, 
My soul would find in flowers of God's ordaining 
Priests, sermons, shrines. 



FINIS 



219 



OCT 8 1903 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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